Pretty Face, Electric Soul
by glass-jars
Summary: A canon-divergent AU wherein Gabe did not die. Sam x Gabe. There's a playlist for it on 8tracks I made called by the same name, under the tag chocolate moose. Technically finished but timestamps will be added. Also on AO3. Please read there if possible. 4th timestamp written for day 3 of sabriel week 2013.
1. Prequel: Love, Keep Your Arms Around Me

_I cry out "Love keep your arms around me",_  
_ I am a bird that's in need of grounding,_  
_ I'm built to fly away, I never learned how to stay._

_ The night is gonna fall and the vultures will surround you,_  
_ And when you're lookin' in the mirror what you see is gon' astound you._  
_ But all these lines and greys refine, they are the maps of our design,_  
_ Of what began on a Monday morning._

- "Monday Morning," Death Cab for Cutie

_How it started:_

_"Don't forget you learned all your tricks from me, little brother."_

_Gabriel's face contorted, as the blade pressed up under his ribcage. Lucifer smirked, and frowned, looking almost sad, then stiffened._

_"You're dumber than a pile o' rocks, bro." Gabriel gave his blade another twist in Lucifer's back. "It's called a double bluff and you really shoulda seen that coming."_

_But of course, Luci wouldn't die that easy. He twisted himself away from the blade and fastened a rough hand around Gabriel's throat, shoving him up against the table with a snarl._

_Gabe just smiled faintly, twirling his sword in his hand. He sighed, regretfully, muttered something under his breath that sounded like an apology, and in a movement so quick not even Lucifer could track it, jammed his blade up through the base of his brother's skull. A few quick murmurs back and forth, some whimpering, some struggling, and Lucifer dropped, spreading the dusty outline of his wings and halo in a burst of light to adorn the floor like a charcoal drawing._

_Gabriel grinned, and managed to transport himself to the Impala before he passed out in the back seat, bleeding grace from the jagged wound in his chest. He hadn't in fact, been entirely bluffing. The second copy of himself had indeed held a significant portion of his angelic Self. He was severely wounded._

How it continues:

Dean swore and the Impala lurched as he swerved and screeched to a stop, crooked across the road. He twisted in his seat, eyes blown, angry. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Sam reached out a hand, laying it against Dean's shoulder.

"Dean..."

Dean took a moment to truly look at Gabriel, sprawled in the back seat with his hands linked together over his ribcage, a sick grimace twisted across his lips. His chest heaved. A white-hot light leaked from between his interlocked fingers, illuminating the inside of the car and making the Winchester brothers' eyes burn. He lifted his gaze to meet Dean's, eyes lit from within with the same snowy glow that bled from his chest. "Drive."

Sam slapped Dean's shoulder, eyes wide, and Dean whirled around and set the engine roaring. The Impala growled low and peeled off down the road with a rip of worn rubber, headlights blazing a path ahead in the night.

... ... ...

Gabriel's head lolled against Sam's shoulder, threatening to hang back over his arm to expose his throat. Sam tried not to jostle him, resettled him in his arms so that he rested more comfortably, and tightened his grip on the backs of Gabe's knees and waist. He trod with light feet, and trailed behind Dean, heading up the porch steps and ensuring Gabriel's hands stayed pressed tight on his wound despite his unconsciousness. The glow lit his face from underneath and sent strange shadows licking in front of Dean's feet. Sam stumbled, somewhat, and Gabriel let out a reedy whine. Sam nudged Dean with his elbow.

Dean pounded on Bobby's door, and shouted, "_BOBBY_. We got an angelic emergency!"

The lights flicked on inside in quick succession and Bobby yanked the door open, sawed-off in hand, scowl in place, cap jammed tight down over his forehead. "Get inside." He stepped to the side. Dean shouldered his way past Bobby, and Sam clutched Gabriel to his chest—careful not to squeeze too hard—as he squeezed his way past their surrogate father. Bobby let the door bang shut behind him.

"I'm gonna assume you boys are the real deal, considering you got what seems to be a wounded goddamn angel." He set his shotgun on a bookshelf and shoved his hands in his pockets with a foul expression. "The hell'd you idjits do?"

Sam held his breath, nervous, and lowered Gabe onto the rickety couch, sinking into a crouch beside him and rearranging his limbs to be more comfortable. He pressed a palm down on the backs of Gabriel's hands. "Not sure. Looks like Lucifer stabbed him, though." He shifted, and pulled back one of Gabriel's eyelids. Eyes white all around, rolled back. Unconscious. Sam swore softly.

"Christ." Dean ran a hand through his hair, sending it sticking up every which way.

Gabe's breath came in shallow pants. A bad sign. Angels shouldn't have labored breathing. His skin had gone pale, as well, and disturbingly cold to the touch considering the usual amount of heat Gabe radiated verged on "uncomfortably furnace-like." Sam's hand trailed back down and he pried Gabriel's fingers apart, spreading them away from the wound. Light beamed up from the tattered hole in his shirt. Sam undid the buttons one-by-one, and peeled the fabric back. It stuck with blood. Another bad sign, considering angels tended not to bleed much. A vicious wound put out tendrils and streams of bright Grace in pulses. Sam prodded the raw flesh and Gabriel moaned high and hoarse and pained. Sam flinched away. "Dean." He looked over his shoulder, catching his big brother's eyes. "Call Cas."

Dean nodded, and closed his eyes, and mumbled a prayer under his breath.

They waited, tense, and Dean paced. Sam pulled a handkerchief—oil-smeared but better than nothing—from the table beside the couch and pressed it against Gabe's chest. The sound Gabe made was wretched but Sam bit down against his apprehension and did his best to staunch the flow of blood and Grace. The Grace refused to be held back and broke out between his fingers hot and blinding in a steady stream at the pace of a slowing heart.

"Dean." Castiel's voice grated out accompanied by the rustle of wings. Sam's breath hitched in surprise, and Bobby jumped with a curse and a grumble. Castiel frowned, forehead creased. "What's happened?" He knelt beside Sam.

Sam swallowed, and Castiel's hands covered his, warm and steadying. Sam pulled a face. "Lucifer got him, with his own blade, I think." He laughed, harsh and unamused. "Only thing that would do this, right?"

Castiel nodded solemnly. He pushed Sam away, and Sam stood to watch as Castiel drew the handkerchief away and drew his fingers over Gabriel's broken skin. Gabe shuddered, and his eyes rolled beneath their lids. Castiel's eyebrows drew together. "Sam. Take him downstairs and restrain him." He stared straight at Sam with sharp blue-gray eyes. "I need to procure some books."

Sam grunted in affirmation and pulled Gabe into his arms. Castiel disappeared in a whisper of sound. Sam left Dean and Bobby in the living room, and made his way down the stairs—careful not to trip—to the panic room. He slipped inside and laid Gabriel out on the cot before strapping his wrists and ankles to the metal frame. Gabriel had begun to shiver, little constant spasms down his entire body, and a thin sheen of sweat coated his skin. His breaths came out broken and staggered, and when Sam pressed his fingers against the angel's throat, his heartbeat pulsed sluggish and delayed. His eyes flickered underneath their lids and a slight glow trickled from them. Sam placed his palm against Gabriel's forehead. Freezing, clammy.

Sam sighed, steadying himself against the cot. He'd feel beyond guilty if Gabriel ended up dead for their sake.

"Sam."

Sam flinched, and looked around. Cas held a book. He stepped closer, and handed it to Sam, before looking down at his brother. "He's dying, Sam." Castiel did not look up. Frowned.

"Oh God." Sam palmed at his mouth. "Shit."

Castiel turned and wrapped his fingers around Sam's wrists, and stared at him. "Calm down. I can save him." He raised his eyebrows emphatically, and released Sam's arms.

"I'm calm. I'm fine." Sam licked his lips. "How can I help?"

Castiel's lips twitched in the slightest of confident smiles. He led Sam through the process a few times, laying out each step. Reassured him that it would work. Had him bandage Gabriel's wound. Informed him that Dean was upstairs setting up the bed in the guest room, and Bobby was in the kitchen preparing a can of soup. Finally, they began.

"This will not prevent his Grace from exiting his vessel." Castiel peeled out of his jacket, and folded it before laying it on the floor. "However it will bind his soul to this body and prevent his death." He rolled his sleeves up to the elbows, and loosened his tie to throw it atop the jacket. "However he will have to heal, physically, on his own, because my own Grace will be sorely weakened."

Sam took a deep breath through his nose and exhaled noisily from his mouth. "Alright." He stood at the head of the cot and wrapped his fingers tight around Gabe's shoulders. "Let's do it." Grace had been steadily leaving through Gabriel's wound, eyes, mouth and nose for the past minute, growing brighter.

Castiel nodded, stern and concerned, but utterly relaxed. He began to chant in Enochian, and planted one hand, fingers splayed wide, over Gabriel's solar plexus. The light doubled in intensity, and Gabriel tensed beneath his touch, face pulling into a grimace, nostrils flaring wide, teeth bared and eyelids fluttering. Sam kept a firm grip on him, and joined in with Castiel's spell, in Old Norse.

The glow of Grace pulsed violently and Gabriel convulsed. Sam pushed him down against the cot with a grunt but didn't stop the flow of words. Gabriel's eyes flew open and his chest expanded with a groan. His jaw clenched around another whine, and though his eyes were fixed on the devil's trap in the ceiling, he clearly saw nothing. His eyes rolled wildly and he tensed and untensed on the cot.

Gabriel's Grace poured from him in waves of blinding light, and Castiel's firm hands acted as the only things keeping him from arching off of the cot.

"Now, Sam!"

Sam immediately ceased his own chanting—though Castiel's low voice continued almost as if it had never stopped—and grabbed the smooth, triangular stone in his pocket. He pried Gabriel's mouth open and shoved the stone inside before pressing his jaw shut again and covering Gabe's mouth with his hand. Castiel ended his incantation on one word, and pulled his hands away from the wound, choosing instead to plant one on Gabriel's hip and the other on his sternum.

Gabriel's pupils widened 'til nothing but a thin golden-white band of his iris could be seen, thin as a thread. He screamed through Sam's hands and jerked at his restraints.

Light exploded from him in a rush of light and alternating waves of burning cold and stifling heat.

When the light faded, Sam couldn't see for several long seconds.

Gabriel had stilled beneath their hands, and fallen silent.

"..." Sam heaved a shuddering breath and allowed himself to relax, and slipped his fingers into Gabriel's mouth—wet, and more importantly, warm—to remove the stone. He dropped the little rock to the floor. "Did it...?"

"It worked." Castiel stepped away from the cot.

Sam listened to Gabe's slow, quiet breaths, and watched his chest rise and fall, the crimson blossom of blood on his bandages nearly black in the dim light of the panic room.

He sighed heavily, and set about unshackling the Archangel, so he could transfer him to the bed upstairs.

... ... ...

"Where am I...?" Gabriel squinted his eyes open. The mild morning sunlight beat down harsh on his senses. He squeezed his eyes shut and threw an arm over his face. Then hissed in a sharp breath of pain at the pang through his torso. He almost tried to sit up, but the mere act of getting his elbows underneath him as support sent a wave of agony and nausea through him. He fell back against the pillows and whimpered.

Sam reached out a hand to check his temperature—a slight fever—and smoothed his hair back from his face in a strangely maternal gesture. Gabriel relaxed under his touch. Sam murmured soft so as not to startle him or aggravate the headache he likely had, "You're at Singer Salvage, with me—Sam Winchester—and my brother, and Castiel, and Bobby Singer." He paused, and adjusted the quilt around Gabriel's waist. "You got hurt, and we stopped you from dying, but your Grace is gone."

Gabriel pulled in a sharp, ragged gasp. "What?" He opened his eyes again, and this time ignored the sharp light streaming through the windows. "Say that again."

"Your Grace is gone..." Sam gave him a sympathetic frown.

Gabriel whimpered again. "_Fuck_."

Sam pressed a cool hand against Gabriel's cheek, and Gabe's eyes fluttered back shut. He shifted in his chair beside the bed, and smoothed one hand across Gabriel's t-shirt—one of Dean's old Zeppelin shirts, with Icarus. "Gabriel..." He sighed. "What happened in the hotel, with Lucifer?"

Gabe laughed bitterly. He pushed Sam's soft touches away. "Son of a bitch stabbed me but I killed him." He sneered. "Killed my own big bro, just for you guys. Aren't ya _proud_?" He gulped and turned his head away from the light.

Sam bit his lip, and reached over the draw the curtains shut, bathing the room in darkness. Gabriel wilted against the sheets in relief. Sam ran his hands through his hair nervously.

"Gabriel, I—" He looked down at his knees. "I'm sorry."

Gabe snorted. "Shut up. Didn't do anything wrong. Not your fault you were born as the Morningstar's one true vessel or whatever the hell." He reached out and squeezed Sam's hand with burning fingers. Managed half a smirk. "In any case, no apocalypse's gonna happen with ol' Luci dead."

Sam smiled softly. "Yeah." He wrapped his fingers around Gabriel's, firm and steady. "Guess you're right."

Gabriel laughed, and it came out hoarse and a little pained.

"'Course I'm right."

... ... ...

"Dammit, Gabe!" Dean slammed his clenched fist down on the kitchen table loud enough to rattle the plates on its surface. He glared down at the Archangel, who returned his sour look obstinately. Dean clenched his jaw. "I don't fucking _care_ if you don't like scrambled eggs. You need some fucking protein and Sam'll skin me if you don't eat."

Gabriel's nostrils flared. He gritted his teeth and crossed his arms. "You think I give a damn? I'm not hungry and eggs make me wanna throw up." He snorted. "At least lemme eat something light, like jello or... or an orange." He raised his eyebrows. "I need to _not barf_ more than I need protein."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Fine." He whirled around and rummaged around in the old, wheezing refrigerator before he found something that satisfied him. He hefted out a perforated bag of green grapes and dropped them on the table in front of Gabriel. "Eat some damn fruit." He left the room.

Gabriel stuck his tongue out at Dean's retreating back.

"Gabriel?"

Gabriel twitched, still unused to his inability to sense living creatures. He glanced over his shoulder, and half-smiled at Sam. "Hey."

"You fightin' with Dean again?" Sam's voice came out slurred and heavy, and his hair stuck out in a few directions, pushed up flat against one side of his head. He squinted at the bag of grapes, and rolled his eyes.

Gabriel shrugged, a little embarrassed. He scratched the back of his neck. "He was tryin' to make me eat eggs."

"Lemme guess. Eggs not soundin' too appetizing?" Sam sat across from Gabe with a little grin. He quirked an eyebrow.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Yeah." He plucked a grape from its stem and popped it into his mouth. "Too heavy, too oily, too... ugh." He shuddered, pulling a face. Sam laughed and Gabe kept on talking. "I don't get how you people do it!" He threw his hands wide and winced when it caused a slight tug of pain in his abdomen. "I'm so fuckin' tired but I can't sleep. Gotta piss constantly—and don't even get me started on shitting—and I mean... _Sweat_? Ugh. And I'm starving but I can't eat anything other than fruit and water, and I'm sore all over and my chest hurts like Hell and I just..." He ate another grape, glaring at the wood grain of the table. "I have a newfound respect for humans." He pulled a face and munched away on his handful of fruit.

Sam chuckled, quiet. "Sucks, don't it?" He tapped on the edge of the table with a yawn. "But hey, there're good things." He grinned at Gabriel.

"Like what?" Gabe crossed his arms, stubborn and grumpy.

Sam laughed. "Well." He spread his fingers over the tabletop. "There's the feelin' of sunlight on your face." He rolled his eyes at Gabe's scoff. "And there's chocolate. A nice spring breeze on a warm day." He gnawed on his lip thoughtfully. "Good food, and hugs, and sitting by the fireplace in the winter, and singin' in the car as loud as you can, and sex and kissing and all sortsa stuff." He gave Gabe a smug look.

Gabriel snorted. "I'll believe it when I experience it for myself." He shrugged. "Besides, there's no way sex as a human is any good compared to sex as an angel." He raised his eyebrows. "It's probably all messy and sweaty and nasty."

Sam huffed out a small laugh. "Whatever, dude." He flicked at Gabriel's knuckle, and Gabriel flinched with a soft curse, and pulled his hand away.

Sam laughed. "Fine." He stood. "You go out and have your first human kiss and fuck, and you tell me if it's better or worse."

Gabriel scowled. "Fuck you." He leaned back in his chair. "Not gonna go out and screw some random mud monkey."

Sam paused on his way to the living room. "Wait." He smirked wide and playful. "You've never kissed a real human, have you?"

Gabriel felt his face go red—one more thing to add to the list of bodily functions that sucked ass—and he went on the defensive. "Screw you, Winchester! I totally have."

"You totally haven't!" Sam's grin was wide and way too amused for Gabe's liking. "You've made out with goddesses and that woman in the porno, and your little constructs, but you've never kissed a _real_ mortal!" He laughed, not bothering to cover his mouth and the flash of super white teeth. His dimples made Gabriel want to strangle a small animal.

"Shut up." Gabriel pointed a threatening finger at him, and shoved another handful of grapes into his mouth.

Sam snickered his way into the living room, and Gabriel glared at him.

... ... ...

Gabriel took a deep, steadying breath. Okay, maybe the whole sex as a human thing wasn't so bad. Well. Not really sex. Masturbation. Still. He turned his face into the spray of the shower, feeling a little more relaxed than he had in a few days, even if he did have to shower with a plastic bag taped around his chest to protect his bandages. He pushed his hair back from his face and let himself stand in the steam and hot water for a long time. He liked showers. Eventually, though, the water began to lose heat, so he sighed and shut it off before stepping out into the comparatively cooler air of the bathroom. Goosebumps raised up all across his arms and legs, and he had to admit he kind of liked the tingly feeling the chill sent up his spine. He shivered and rubbed himself down with a towel awkwardly—still not quite used to doing that kind of thing—until his skin was pink and warm. He dressed quickly, and headed downstairs.

"'S weird." Sam's voice carried soft from the kitchen.

Gabe heard Dean snort, as he walked into the room. "Damn straight." He gnawed on his bacon with a content hum.

Gabriel cleared his throat. "Whatcha talkin' about?" He smirked. "Sam's sex life? 'Cause I hear he's pretty freaky." He found his joke rewarded with a choking snort and glare from Dean, and one of Sam's famed "bitchfaces." He waggled his eyebrows. Sam rolled his eyes, and thumped Dean on the back.

"Looks like someone's in a good mood." Sam raised an eyebrow.

Gabriel shrugged and sat down at the table, carding a hand through his still-damp hair. "Yeah, well." He smirked. "I had a nice shower."

"Dude." Dean pulled a face. "_Gross_."

Gabriel barked out a laugh. "I didn't say anything, Ken Doll." He raised a hand in a mock salute. "You're the one whose mind jumped into the sewer."

Sam snorted at that, and Gabriel grinned at him as dazzlingly as he knew how. Sam rolled his eyes but smiled back.

"You want some pancakes? They're still warm, I think." Sam stood. Gabriel perked up.

"Um," He tilted his head. "Hell _yes_? What kinda dumb question is that?" He leaned his elbows on the table. Sam shook his head with a grin, and slid a plate in front of Gabriel, thunking a bottle of syrup and a fork down beside it.

"Don't use too much syrup. Bobby'll kill you."

Gabriel placed a hand over his heart. "Promise. Scout's honor." He winked, and set to work drowning his breakfast in artificial tree sap.

... ... ...

"How the fuck do you people stand it?!"

Sam closed his book—figured dealing with the temper of an ex-angel might in fact be somewhat more fascinating than reading a 500 year old account of a court case. He sighed. Folded his hands over the leather cover and looked up. "Stand what?"

Gabriel threw his arms wide in an expansive gesture before he threw himself onto the couch beside Sam. "I dunno—everything!" He crossed his arms and pouted. "I'm always hungry or thirsty or sore or tired! I can't sleep because I have nightmares and I can't stay awake constantly or I'll hurt myself." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his face in his hands. "Everything takes energy."

Sam smirked. "At least you can still speak a ton of different languages." He raised his eyebrows. He put a hand on Gabriel's shoulder with a small, reassuring shake. "Right?"

"No może i masz rację." Gabriel shot Sam a sidelong grin, letting his hands drag away from his face. "Still. It kinda sucks to have to walk everywhere and eat Bobby's shitty food."

Sam slapped the back of Gabriel's head lightly. "Don't be a jerk." His arm settled along the back of the couch and he drummed his fingers on his book. He looked at Gabe, thoughtful. "There are other things too, though." He leaned his head back. "The smell of rain, feeling how soft a rabbit is when you pet it, watching the stars at night, the taste of homemade biscuits and gravy, listening to the people you care about talk real quiet three floors down when you wake up at noon, with a record playing. Home and family and belonging. The thrill of surviving a hunt." His lips curved and his eyes drifted shut, and his fingers stilled. He took a slow breath. "Sheriff Mills' casseroles."

Gabriel stared at him for a long time—watched the way Sam's chest moved slow and steady and the way his expression gentled as he thought of everything he loved and the slant of sunlight across his face highlighting his eyelashes spread long on his cheeks. Gabe cleared his throat. Sam's eyes twitched open. He blushed. Gabriel grinned at him.

"You're a sap."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Like you aren't?" He grinned and his teeth flashed white and straight. "I may hate that song now, but I know 'Heat of the Moment' is a love song." He spread his other arm along the back of the couch and stretched his long legs out until he could prop his boots on the coffee table. He grinned and his eyes squinted a little for it. "I bet you're more of a sap than me."

"At least my heart doesn't bleed all over everything like a maidenly fountain of sympathy." Gabriel raised one eyebrow high with a mocking expression.

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Just because I'm not some apathetic gorilla like Dean doesn't mean I'm a bleeding heart." He flicked the back of Gabriel's head.

"You so _are_!" Gabe swatted at Sam's hand, and scooted a little to the side. He crossed his arms. "Not to mention a _tremendous_ flirt." He smirked.

Sam scoffed. "Whatever." He leaned his head back against the couch again, and slid a little down against the cushions so he could bend his knees. "Least I never had sex with a boulder."

Gabriel squinted at him. He pulled a face and stood. "It's rude to look into people's pasts, Sambo." He let out a breath of feigned offense and whirled to walk away. He found himself stopped by a hand on his wrist. He looked down.

Sam had his fingers wrapped around Gabe's wrist, but his eyes still closed, with a tiny playful smile on his lips. He said, "Your past is plastered through hundreds of mythology and history books, dude." He cracked one eye open.

Gabriel let loose a dramatic sigh. He allowed himself to be dragged back down to the couch by his arm (not that he could have prevented it as a powerless human being, considering Sam's bulk and strength) and leveled a critical gaze on Sam. "You suck."

"I rule." Sam wrapped his arm around Gabriel's shoulders. "And I am going to force you to sit here with me while I do research, because I'm bored."

Gabriel glared at Sam.

... ... ...

"Dude." Sam pulled a face. "Seriously, Dean. That's disgusting."

Dean grinned at Sam around his mouthful of tuna, pickles, bacon, white bread and way too much spicy mustard. "Shut up, bitch, it's delicious." He deigned to swallow and then continued, "Cas thinks it's good."

Cas cleared his throat and looked away. "It's not... awful..." He shrugged.

Gabe stared at him. "It smells revolting." He pointed a finger at Dean. "Like, is this lurching feeling in my gut _nausea?_ Because I'm not well-versed in bodily functions but I think I might throw up if someone doesn't open a window." He licked his lips. Dean stared at him for a minute, then smirked before taking another too-large bite. Pickle juice and mustard dripped down his fingers. Gabriel shoved his chair back from the table and left the room with a stumble and muttered, "Father help me."

Sam sighed. "I'll make sure he doesn't barf on your car." He left.

Dean made an offended noise at his retreating back.

Sam nearly tripped down the front steps, and made his way over to Gabe, who stood in the middle of the gravel driveway with his face turned into the sunlight and his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He smiled and flicked Gabriel's ear.

"You gonna be sick?"

Gabriel smirked. "Nah." He took a deep breath of the dry summer air. "Just fuckin' with him. That sandwich is absolutely horrifying though."

Sam snorted. "Yeah." He hooked his thumbs through his belt loops and watched Gabe bask for a few drawn out minutes. Eventually Gabriel's eyes snicked open.

"Stop staring, it's creepin' me out."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Okay. 'Cause staring is so disturbing compared to all the shit we've seen." His eyebrows lifted emphatically, and he rocked a little on his heels.

"Point taken." Gabriel grinned in that infectious, seemingly toothless way he had, all crinkly eyes and little flicker of tongue, and looked out over the scenic mountains of dilapidated cars that littered Singer Salvage. Sam shot him an exasperated grin.

... ... ...

"There's a nest of harpies in North Dakota we're gonna take a look at." Dean nodded toward the front door. "You wanna come?"

Sam eyed Dean and Castiel from his spot on the couch. He'd just gotten nice and settled, with the fireplace smoldering low and warm, and Gabriel chose that precise moment to throw his legs across Sam's lap. Sam rolled his eyes and opened his book over Gabe's knees. "Think I'll pass, today. You two go have fun." He grinned.

Dean scoffed at him. "Bitch." He grabbed Cas by the elbow and tugged him toward the front of the house. The door shut with a clatter and Sam muttered, "Jerk" a little too late.

Gabriel snorted, head propped against the arm of the couch, a yellowed Playboy in his fingers, ankles crossed and thighs pressing warm against Sam's lap. Sam pulled a face. "Come on, seriously?" He shot Gabe a pained expression. "You're gonna read porn while you sit on me?"

"I'm not sitting on you." Gabriel waggled his eyebrows without looking away from his mag and turned a page after licking his thumb. "Anyway, I'm reading for the articles."

Sam rubbed his forehead. "Sure. Whatever." He found his place in his copy of _American Gods_ and relaxed against the cushions, a little too warm and a little sore from chopping wood the night before and perfectly content in the silence of Bobby's empty house. (Bobby was on a _date_. With the _sheriff_.)

Sam barely made it ten pages before he heard the rustle of paper, and glanced at Gabriel. Gabe's head lolled to the side and the magazine lay open on his chest, and one hand draped over its spine while the other arm hung off the side of the couch. His mouth hung slightly open and a little stray strand of hair drifted over his eyes. He almost snored—still recovering from his first head cold ever. Sam smiled. He shifted to be more comfortable—eliciting a little grumble from Gabriel—and kept reading.

Forty minutes later they both slept in the dwindling glow from the fireplace with the sound of rain rattling the windows, looking decidedly uncomfortable but happy.

When Dean and Castiel returned near one am, they snuck in quietly and almost didn't see Sam and Gabe on the couch. Castiel's lips twitched, and he drew Dean's attention to their brothers' prone forms on the couch. Dean smirked. "Their necks are gonna hurt like hell in the morning." Cas' lips pulled back in a gummy grin. Dean squeezed his elbow and they wandered upstairs, one to sleep and the other to keep watch over his righteous man.

Sam stirred, and his fingers curled in the edge of Gabriel's borrowed plaid shirt.

... ... ...

"The human body is all kinds of inconvenient." Gabriel grimaced.

Sam blinked at him. "Yeah? I think morning wood is pretty non-problematic compared to, say, throwing up because you drank too much water." He snorted.

Gabriel pulled a face. "Oh, shut up." He flopped onto his stomach with a grunt and flung his limbs out wide, burying his face in the sheets, feeling the fabric under his fingers. It was a sensory experience he honestly never tired of—the course softness of the cotton, the dusty yet lived-in smell, the firmness of the mattress. He had his own bed—if a fold-out futon in the corner of Sam's room really counted—but he much preferred the younger Winchester's. More comfortable for one. He often snuck into it in the middle of the night, much to Sam's chagrin. "Anyhow!" He waved one arm about aimlessly. "I guess I should count myself lucky that I woke up pressed against the one person who _wouldn't_ freak out about it."

"I grew up sharing a bed with Dean for half my life." Sam crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back against his pillows. He smirked. "It's a natural thing, anyway." He shrugged. "You know?"

Gabriel eyed him. "Still embarrassing."

"Well, yeah." Sam kneed Gabe's side. He raised his eyebrows.

Gabriel scowled. He pulled himself to his knees and crawled his way up Sam, purposefully jamming his knee into Sam's stomach. Sam grunted and thumped the side of Gabe's head.

"Knock it off, dick."

Gabe rolled his eyes. "You started it." He dropped his weight down on Sam, laying his head on his chest and dangling his arms around the other's neck. His legs snaked between Sam's.

Sam frowned. "_Someone's_ cuddly." He laughed under his breath. "Feeling neglected?"

Gabriel pulled back with a rush of breath and a downward cast of his eyes. "Sorry."

Sam rolled his eyes and tugged him back down. He fastened his arms around Gabriel's shoulders and rested his chin on the top of his head. "Shut up and snuggle with me." He settled them more comfortably onto their sides, legs tangled, with Gabriel's face just centimeters away from Sam's throat. "I read somewhere that to be happy humans need a certain amount of touch and interaction, so let's just say it's for health purposes." He pressed his nose into Gabe's hair with a soft sigh.

"...Okay." Gabriel fisted his hands in Sam's shirt. "I can go along with that."

Sam laughed, and it rumbled through his chest.

Gabriel closed his eyes.

He smiled.

... ... ...

Gabriel rolled his head to the side and stared at Sam, sitting beside him with an occult book in his lap. Eventually Sam fidgeted and glanced up and his forehead crinkled. "Is there a bug on my face or something?" He tapped his fingers on the pages of his book.

"Can I kiss you?"

Sam blinked.

"What?"

Gabe's mouth twisted. "It's just—" He took a frustrated breath and looked away. "You were right, I've never kissed a living, breathing human being and..." He shrugged. "And I figure it probably feels different anyhow, now that I'm... you know." He rubbed his palm down the leg of his jeans. Kept his eyes on the fireplace.

Sam sighed. "C'mere." He reached out a hand.

Gabriel took a few moments to process, and then his eyes snapped toward Sam's face—an amused but not unkind smile and eyes lit warm and twinkly from the fire. Dimples. Gabriel's eyebrows shot up and he took Sam's hand.

Sam tugged him closer, and Gabe nearly fell off the couch before righting himself and essentially plowing into Sam's mouth. It wasn't the most elegant or sexy of kisses, but it was warm and a nice balance between soft and dry and a little scratchy at the edges. Completely the opposite of what he was used to. His breath hitched and he reached up to thread his hands through Sam's hair—Sam's right hand snaked around Gabriel's waist and the other lifted to grip at the back of his head and keep him from pulling away.

Sam released him just when he felt like he might explode, breathing hard through his nose, and Gabriel fell back against the arm of the couch with a strangled grunt. His cheeks felt like the hood of the Impala after a hot August day, when he rubbed a hand over his face and back through his hair with a shaky breath.

"That was..." Gabriel licked his lips. "Different."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Not too terrible, I hope." His mouth twitched into a smirk.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. "Do it again."

Sam grinned and moved to pin Gabriel against the cushions, and pressed his palms against his jaw and shoved their lips together with more force than before.

Gabe squirmed beneath him and threw his arms around Sam's neck.

Sam kissed his way into Gabriel's mouth. He drew a quiet, shocked noise from Gabe's throat, and laughed, and bit Gabriel's lower lip with a gentle insistence. Gabriel dug his fingers in against the skin at the back of Sam's neck and pushed back. Sam growled low, and Gabriel felt his body temperature rise immediately.

Being, for all intents and purposes, powerless underneath Sam sent a shiver up Gabe's spine but he liked it. A new experience, sure, being unable to send Sam flying with a snap or shove him off or really do anything other than return his shockingly feral kisses and rake his nails over Sam's shoulders. It felt invigorating and restricting, but oddly freeing.

It definitely turned him on.

Sam pulled his mouth away with a final kiss to the side of Gabriel's mouth, and whispered into his ear, "That's enough for today." He stood, and stretched his arms over his head with a grimace. "I gotta go start dinner for when Dean and Bobby get back from smokin' that manticore." He smirked, and turned, and made his way to the kitchen.

"Oh, come _on_!"

Gabriel scowled and lay sullen on the couch, until he finally gave in and wandered after Sam to sample the various ingredients strewn about in the kitchen.

Sam grinned at him and taught him how to make pumpkin pie.


	2. Pretty Face, Electric Soul (Main Story)

"It's..." Sam rubbed his palms on the roughness of his jeans, throwing a long look to the structure in front of them.

Gabriel smirked. "Tiny? Dilapidated?"

"It's nice." Sam scanned his eyes up and down the narrow little house. Its white exterior was reasonably neat and clean—no chipping paint. The porch was made up of just three brick steps to the doorway. Soft cream shutters framed the single large window beside the doorway. Sam smiled, stepping closer to peek into the living room—empty and waiting for them to fill it with their things and turn it into a home. He could see pale wood flooring, and a small fireplace, and just the edge of the kitchen through a partially open door. He looked up, at the mid-afternoon clouds and the ledge of the roof, and let his grin overtake his face, turning around to face Gabriel, leaning against the window.

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. "Well." He crossed his arms, smirking. "I guess as long as we can fit you inside this little dollhouse, it's all fine." He rocked back a bit on his heels, and shook his head. "Let's just hope the bedroom's as huge as the living room, eh?" He leered at Sam, who rolled his eyes but huffed out a quiet laugh.

They propped the front door open with a sideways cinderblock and some rocks from the scraggly garden, and though they really didn't own much—especially not Gabriel—Sam still brought out boxes and boxes of books from the borrowed Impala, while Gabe carried in a few duffel bags and backpacks holding food, clothing, necessities.

The living room ended up being still fairly empty. A spacious area, with some bags and books sitting in the center of the floor, lonely.

Gabriel surveyed the space, one eyebrow raised. Sam grimaced. "Well, it could use some work..."

"_I'll_ say." Gabe slapped Sam on the back, heading back out toward the car. "C'mon Goliath. Gotta get your brother's car back to him." He slid into the passenger seat seemingly at ease, but Sam smiled slightly at the tightness of his knuckles on his knees. The man hated riding in cars—loved driving, but not riding. Couldn't completely trust someone else not to kill him in a crash, now that he wasn't this all-powerful, immortal... being.

The engine grumbled, and Sam said, very quiet, "Dude, it's okay." He didn't pull out of the driveway. Let the Impala idle. "If you really want you can stay in the house, and I'll return the Impala, and get the truck alone." He pulled that puppy-dog face, and Gabriel sighed.

"I don't like being alone, Sam. Or haven't you noticed that?" He grinned teasingly.

Sam rolled his eyes at him, and they pulled out of the driveway and onto the rough road framed by lanky trees, gravel protesting under the tires. "I resent that. I'm not _that_ inobservant." But if he told the truth, he _hadn't_ noticed, even though it had been obvious. Gabriel always had some illusionary women, or was with Sam and Dean, or Kali. Sam wondered if it was due to loneliness, or a fear of being alone. He decided that if Gabriel needed to, he'd tell him, and if not... Well then it didn't matter and Sam wouldn't ask him about it.

"If you feel _so_ bad for forcing me to ride, why don't you let me drive, huh?" Gabriel raised his eyebrows and shot his best begging look at Sam.

Sam pressed his lips into a thin line, his eyebrows apparently intent on escaping his face and flying into the sky. "Right." He glanced at Gabriel briefly, and turned a sharp corner. (Gabriel clutched at the door handle, then, with a yelp.) "Because I really want to be flayed alive by Dean, who would definitely find out." He shook his head. "No way." He remained focused on street signs and lights, but still paid attention to Gabriel in a subtle way. Little head tilts, glances, brushes of the hand on knuckles. "Once we get our car, you can drive all you want. Please do, in fact." He smiled at Gabriel, probably trying to be comforting but really only reminding Gabe why he was here in the first place—stupid irresistible giant. "But for now I'd rather keep my life, and I'm sure you'd rather I not die as well. Dean is a jealous person."

Gabriel rolled his eyes, scowling. But he kept his hand in Sam's, holding tight at a particularly short green light, secretly somewhat pleased. _Our car_, Sammy'd said. _Our_. Their house, their yard, and soon their car and their furniture and their food and their dumb life together in the middle of goddamn nowhere. _Perfect_. Gabriel hoped he'd be able to get used to sharing, because if not... Well. Other couples had divorced or broken up over much pettier things than being overly possessive. But he figured they'd be alright, and it's not like they hadn't gotten through much, _much_ more problematic situations.

Finally, nearly four hours later, they arrived at Bobby's.

A beaten up but sturdy looking pickup truck waited in the driveway, newly painted in a nice sensible dark red. And of course, it had a goddamn glittery Christmas bow stuck onto the end of the hood—pink, for some reason. _Ridiculous_. Dean needed to work on his pranks.

Gabriel tumbled out of the Impala as fast as possible, sauntered over to the pickup as casual as you please, and plucked the bow off the hood, raising an eyebrow at Sam. His eyes clearly said, "What is your brother trying to say?" Sam shook his head, with a small eye roll, and nearly tripped up the stairs on his way to the door. He recovered quickly to Gabe's violent laughter, and flipped Gabriel off, pounding on the door. Not that he needed to knock considering Gabriel's guffaws had certainly alerted anyone on the property of their presence.

"If you broke my Baby, I swear to God—" Dean slammed the door open suspiciously, nearly nailing his little brother in the face with it. He was beside his car within seconds, running his hands over the hood and the doors, and when he was satisfied Gabriel hadn't messed it up, he cleared his throat and looked up. "Anyway. There's your car, Samantha. All ready for your grocery shopping and whatever other wifely duties you have."

Sam pursed his lips, giving Gabriel a pointed look, and then turning back to Dean to glare. "Really, Dean? Is that what the bow was about? 'Cause I'm a girl? Real original." He lumbered down the porch steps to approach the car. "Anyway, usually the husband gives his wife the car with a bow. Not the brother." He smiled sweetly over his shoulder, opening the truck's door and sliding in to test the leg room and adjust the seat. He ignored Dean's awkward protests and chose to start the car—the keys had been waiting in the ignition.

The engine roared and Gabriel shouted, "We're not married anyhow!" as he climbed through the passenger side window ("Doors are for losers!") to fall gracelessly into the bench seat. They were out of the driveway with Sam's middle finger acting as a temporary turn signal.

Dean fidgeted in the driveway. "Bitch." He grumbled to himself, making his way back inside to make lunch and definitely not watch soap operas while he waited for Bobby or Cas to get home and entertain him.

... ... ...

"Well." Gabriel sat in the driver's seat now, much more confident and at ease when in control of the vehicle. "That was interesting." Sam snorted beside him, one arm slung across the back of the seat and the other hanging out the window to feel the breeze.

"My brother's an idiot."

Gabriel smirked, pulling into the Lowe's parking lot. "Yup! So whaddya say we make our new place swanky and exactly what he would hate, just 'cause?" He put the truck into park and jumped out onto the blacktop. Sam was at his side pretty quickly with a mischievous grin and an outstretched hand. Oh joy, PDA. Gabe could deal, though. Wasn't like hand-holding embarrassed him or anything.

As Sam tugged Gabe inside, he replied with, "You mean practical but stylish decor and coordinated colors, like any other normal human couple?" He quirked an eyebrow.

"Precisely." Gabriel grabbed a cart. "And maybe a couch from the seventies."

Sam laughed out loud.

... ... ...

They surveyed the living room thoughtfully. Tarp on the floor, masking tape on the trim, anything they wanted to stay clean clustered in the middle of the floor.

"Let's paint this sucker!" Gabriel hoisted his paint roller into the air like a weapon, already dripping "Semi-Gloss Green Tea Latte" onto his ratty t-shirt. (Borrowed from Sam. So the fact that he managed to keep it on was fairly impressive considering it hung off his shoulder and partially down his thighs.)

They went at it with more enthusiasm than skill.

... ... ...

Within the month, _the_ house had become _their_ house.

A thick ring of salt encircled the property about six feet underground, strewn with iron nails, and using Gabriel's knowledge they'd blessed the whole damn building. They'd deposited salt lines inside of any caulking, and the windowsills and doorsills—the whole shebang. They managed to mix salt in with everything they possibly could while doing the remodeling. Sam wasn't sure but he thought Gabriel might have even found a way to integrate salt into the paint around the outlets. But that wasn't _all_, no.

Strategically placed rosaries littered every room, blessed by a fallen archangel and purifying the entire area. One each hung in the well outside, in the hot water heater, in some of the pipes even. At that point they would be able to use their newly-installed motion-sensing sprinklers as a defensive weapon because even the hoses put out holy water.

Every single fork and knife in the house was silver, and most of the gardening tools were solid iron. Most anything made of metal was one of those two materials, actually. Which made their cutlery a lot more expensive than most people's, but Sam figured it was worth it if it acted as even one extra measure of protection.

The house was absolutely plastered in sigils but very few of them were visible, especially from the outside. Gabe knew a thing or two about ridiculous kinds of paints, and so went out and bought as much glow-in-the-dark spray paint as the shopkeeper would allow him to, and they emblazoned mostly unnoticeable devil's traps and other sigils in each room of the house as well as on the outside, so they'd only be visible in the dark. It made for a strange effect at night and was sure to keep the house from being broken into by way of looking haunted, and acted as a moderately decent nightlight in the bedroom so that Sam didn't trip over something in the dark and break his neck. All while seeming perfectly normal in daylight.

Sam certainly appreciated how next to normal the house looked when sunlight streamed through the windows. Even if Dean thought it was dumb. The devil's traps would still _work_ even if they were semi-transparent, so Sam really didn't give a shit what his brother thought.

They were pretty damn well protected.

Not to mention, the house looked great.

A nice light green living room with a vanilla white wood floor, some sensible navy chairs, a freshly painted white and brick fireplace, and one big; overstuffed paisley teal couch across from the brand new flat screen TV.

A white swinging door connected the living room to the kitchen, which also happened to double as a dining room, where their collapsible table with the opalescent top was shoved into a corner, flanked by two off-white vinyl diner stools. (Gabriel had insisted on the little glittery retro touch.) The floor was black and white, in that weird hexagonal pattern that was popular lately, and looked really good with the dark wood cabinets and the black fridge. The stove and oven were still a kind of creamy color though. Didn't want the kitchen to be too dark, so the countertops were white granite and the walls were a golden peach color, soft and warm. The knife block was shaped like a person too, because Gabe had absolutely looked ready to pout like he'd never pouted before unless Sam indulged him. The man acted like such a _child_ sometimes.

A narrow hallway broke off from the kitchen and led to four rooms—the master bedroom, a tiny laundry room with silver walls, a decent-sized guest room, and a little bathroom.

They'd completely redone the master bathroom, ripping out the ugly vinyl flooring to replace it with orange and cream tiles that reminded Sam of a dreamsicle. Were probably supposed to. The walls were a gentle pastel blue, creating an interesting contrast and balance of colors in the room, especially when combined with the scarlet shower curtain and stark white tub and toilet and the eggshell colored counter. Generally, Sam liked it.

The guest room was pretty simple—a nice purple quilt they'd picked up on sale, clean sheets, basic brown wood floors they'd resealed and re-varnished, and walls of a nice thistle color.

Gabriel's favorite room so far had to be the main bedroom. Of course.

Gabriel's initial idea for the master bedroom had simple been, "I vote gold!" Sam made sure that thought was shot down before it managed to get to its feet. He refused—absolutely _refused_—to sleep in a bedroom with metallic walls. He managed to convince Gabe to settle for some overly extravagant white and gold comforter set—the price of which made Sam thank the gods above for fraudulent credit cards.

They'd settled on a much more neutral off-white for the walls, and a wood floor in an extremely dark cherry wood. Sam had also let Gabriel get a vibrantly colored Turkish-style rug to put beside the bed, figuring it would be nice for winter days when wood flooring would be much too cold to step on with bare feet.

The bedframe and dressers were also cherry wood, but had been glazed with black so that the red showed only a little bit.

All in all, Sam thought the room couldn't be much better, though. It was fairly spacious, and the bed was massive. The two windows were a decent size, covered over with extremely thick gold curtains that matched the bedding and blocked out nearly any light if need be.

It was a good house, especially now they'd fixed it up and littered it with new furniture and old books and plaid and movies. (Courtesy of Gabriel, who had built up quite the collection since they moved in.)

... ... ...

"We should have a housewarming party." Gabe observed the living room from his perch on the sofa thoughtfully, twirling the remote in his hand.

Sam frowned, looking up from his book. He marked his page and set it down. "What?" Gabe smiled at him.

"Oh, you know, now that the house is all set up! People usually have housewarming parties, don't they! I mean, I've only been human for a little while but I've been to _plenty_ of parties and some of those were for new houses." Gabriel shrugged, sliding down to sit on the couch cushions and prop his feet in Sam's lap. "Thought it could be fun."

Sam smiled uncertainly. "Yeah, but..." He shrugged. "It's not like we have any neighbors within a hundred yards, and Bobby and everyone's already seen the house. Hell, Dean installed the sprinkler system!" He pushed Gabriel's feet off of his lap, standing and stretching his arms above his head. He looked down at Gabe curiously.

"I know, I know but I just thought—_You_ know!" Gabe shrugged, throwing his arms behind his head. He gnawed on his lip—a nervous tic he'd picked up since Falling. "Just... Never mind." He smiled oddly at Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dude, if it really bothers you we can make it 'official' or whatever and have Cas and Bobby and Dean over, and maybe like, I dunno... the nearest distant neighbor or something." He pulled what he hoped was a soothing face, crouching down so his eyes could meet Gabriel's with more ease. True, the nearest neighbor was twenty minutes down the road by foot, but Gabe obviously wanted to do something about the house situation.

Gabe beamed, straightening up. "Really?"

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Really. But _you_ have to ask the neighbors over if you want 'em to come." Sam was not gonna be the one to say _Hey we just moved in a month ago and we live nearly twenty minutes away and I know we don't know you, but how's a barbecue sound?_ No way. For all he knew, the neighbors could be raging homophobes or hardcore anti-theists or something. _He_ didn't know Minnesota's political climate. Though, considering Northfield was a college town he doubted that would be much of an issue. Cannon Falls, on the other hand...? No clue.

"Anyway!" Sam clapped his hands. "Weren't you gonna try a new recipe?"

Gabriel leapt to his feet, eyes widening. "YES! Right!" He dragged Sam into the kitchen, shoving him into one of the stools. "I found some weird vegan cookbook at the used bookstore when I was scoping out the bars—and it had this recipe for some kind of pomegranate gravy that sounds really cool!" He spun on his heel, catching Sam's eye. "Gonna try it on some chicken." He winked. "Big boy like you needs his protein after all."

Sam rolled his eyes.

As it turned out, the gravy—on chicken and sautéed kale—was absolutely amazing.

... ... ...

"Welcome to our humble abode!"

Gabriel led a grumbling Bobby, a bewildered Castiel, and an amused Dean through the door. Behind them, someone Sam had never seen before, gangly and dopey looking, bounced through the doorway. Sam pulled Bobby aside and nodded questioningly at the stranger. Bobby rolled his eyes, tugging on his baseball cap with a frown. "That's Garth. He _happened_ to overhear we were goin' to a housewarming and, well... There's no stoppin' Garth." He rolled his eyes once more before making his way to where the food was, ignoring Gabriel's protests of "It's not done yet!"

Sam made his way over to the newcomer, holding out a hand to shake. "Hi, I'm Sa—" Instead of shaking his hand, Garth pulled him into a choking and overly affectionate hug, cutting him off.

"I know who you are! Sam Winchester, right? Every Hunter knows about the Winchesters!" He grinned so widely Sam feared his face might break in half.

Sam nodded, taken aback. "Uh." He gestured vaguely toward the couch. "Yeah. Nice to meet you... Garth?" He hovered by the sofa while the strange little man sat down.

"Garth Fitzgerald the Fourth!" The skinny Hunter bounced a little on the cushions.

"Great. Um. I'll just..." Sam pointed a thumb over his shoulder, just as the bell rang, and practically ran to the door to escape what might have been the most awkward first meeting he'd ever experienced. He pulled the door open maybe a little more forcefully than necessary, but managed to compose himself enough the smile at the short woman and child standing on the front steps. "Hi. Sam Winchester." He shook hands with the woman and gave the young boy—maybe seven years old—as friendly a smile as he could muster.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Maria Clearwater, and this is Jude." Her smile was shy but infectious. The boy looked around curiously as they followed Sam into the house. When he saw the (admittedly rather massive) TV his eyes lit up, and he made his cautious way over to where Garth had, for some unfathomable reason, turned on the Cartoon Network.

Maria tried to apologize for her son being seemingly rude, but Sam just laughed softly, telling her not to worry about it. He nodded toward the kitchen and said, "Gabe's just finishing up lunch, if you wanna get some before my family eats everything."

She giggled, and trailed after him, still clearly nervous. Sam was willing to bet she probably hadn't met any of the other neighbors, considering how far out of town their houses were. He escorted her through the Hunters, to where Gabe stood at the counter mixing up something made of chocolate. She licked her lips at the sight, and Sam couldn't help but chuckle. He leaned close to Gabriel, muttering, "Save some for her son. Otherwise Dean'll demolish it all."

Gabriel snorted. "I plan on hiding at least half of this from your damn brother." He poured the chocolate-y concoction into a casserole dish full of graham cracker crust and strawberries, and shoved the dish into Sam's hand. "Put it in the freezer for ten minutes." He turned and was off checking the baked macaroni in the oven before Sam could respond, so Sam just shook his head with a smile and managed to fit the dessert in between a bag of frozen peas and some fish sticks. He leaned on the refrigerator, content to just watch Gabe dish out bowls of mac & cheese and lightly steamed broccoli, laughing at Dean's disgusted expression.

"Wouldn't kill you to eat something green every once in a while, jerk!" Sam stuck his tongue out at his big brother. Dean just called back _Bitch_ before stuffing his mouth full of cheesy pasta. Maria looked like a mix between amused and terrified, but Cas easily pulled her away from the more obnoxious members of their little group, clearly starting up some serious conversation that both enthralled her and allowed her to keep a closer eye on her son, who laughed along with Garth at what appeared to be a rerun of Dexter's Lab.

Sam shook his head. Checked his watch. Eventually pulled out the pie-casserole-thing from the freezer and snuck it to the counter, slipping it in front of Gabriel. Gabe sliced it up, and half went onto a plate while the other half went into the fridge all wrapped up in plastic with a sticky note that read "Hands off, Deano!" Sam snorted.

By the end of the afternoon, around 4 pm, everyone was full and scattered about in the living room, and Maria was much more relaxed. Sam and Gabe sat in one of the big blue recliners (the fact that both fit was a testament to its hugeness), Garth and Jude and Maria were settled on the sofa, Bobby was in the other recliner _Because I'm old, dammit!_ and Dean and Cas hovered by the big front window speaking in low voices, ignoring the chairs by the fireplace.

The room filled with sunlight, and it was cozy. Maria and Jude left first, and Sam smiled and waved goodbye to them, feeling comfy and content—happier than he had ever felt in a long, long time. Before he knew it, he'd drifted off the sleep with Gabe lounging half in his lap and half on the arm of the recliner.

Sam woke up to a dim and empty living room, the TV flickering quietly and the smell of food wafting through the air. He stretched, and made his way into the kitchen. He shuffled up behind Gabriel to give him a hug. "Hey."

"Howdy, Samwich." Gabe smiled up at him, dumping a pile of fried potatoes onto a plate with one wide, flat blueberry pancake. Looked like tonight was breakfast-for-dinner. Sam grinned, nuzzling Gabe's neck. Gabriel swatted at him, but laughed. "Get offa me you big lout. Eat your food." He pushed the plate into Sam's hands, and Sam chose to stand beside him to eat rather than sit in the chair at the table, alone. Gabriel just snickered to himself and finished piling his own plate high with potatoes and pancakes and maple syrup and whipped cream and even some chocolate syrup.

"You're disgusting, you know that?" Sam mumbled around a mouthful of food.

Gabe raised an eyebrow. "Right back atcha, Kiddo."

Sam coughed slightly, at the dryness of the potatoes. "Don't call me that, jackass."

Gabriel only rolled his eyes.

They finished their meal in friendly silence.

Washed up, changed, did all the necessary things.

Sam collapsed onto the bed with a grunt. He would never admit it, but he was kinda glad they blew so much money on decorating their house because the bedspread was amazingly soft despite its glitziness. The bed dipped, Gabriel sliding under the covers in the darkness. He pulled them over Sam as well, and though they didn't really snuggle—or at least they'd deny it vehemently if accused—they certainly stayed close to each other, giving and taking body heat and accidental headbutts while they settled.

It was a nice setup.

... ... ...

_"Don't forget you learned all your tricks from me, little brother."_

_Gabriel's face contorted, as the blade pressed up under his ribcage. Lucifer smirked, and frowned, looking almost sad, then stiffened._

_"You're dumber than a pile o' rocks, bro." Gabriel gave his blade another twist in Lucifer's back. "It's called a double bluff and you really shoulda seen that coming."_

_But of course, Luci wouldn't die that easy. He twisted himself away from the blade and fastened a rough hand around Gabriel's throat, shoving him up against the table with a snarl._

_Gabe just smiled faintly, twirling his sword in his hand. He sighed, regretfully, muttered something under his breath that sounded like an apology, and in a movement so quick not even Lucifer could track it, jammed his blade up through the base of his brother's skull. A few quick murmurs back and forth, some whimpering, some struggling, and Lucifer dropped, spreading the dusty outline of his wings and halo in a burst of light to adorn the floor like a charcoal drawing._

_Gabriel grinned, and managed to transport himself to the Impala before he passed out in the back seat, bleeding grace from the jagged wound in his chest. He hadn't in fact, been _entirely_ bluffing. The second copy of himself had indeed held a significant portion of his angelic Self. He was severely wounded._

Gabe woke with a start, and it took him several long, painful seconds to realize that he was not in some moldy motel bed, but rather the bed he shared with Sam Winchester, in their room, in their house, safe as could be. He sank back into the pillows and Sam's sprawled out arms, reveling in the warmth, the comfort. He glanced at Sam briefly, before pressing a small kiss to his cheek and letting himself fall back to sleep, confident that his tall bed partner hadn't been awake to note that embarrassing display of fear and affection.

Sam let Gabriel go on thinking that, and tightened his arms imperceptibly around him.

... ... ...

"I was thinking I might go back to school, now that... You know."

Gabriel paused his movie, looking to the side to see Sam standing by the window with some pamphlets in his hand. "Yeah?"

Sam fidgeted, restless. He dropped the pamphlets and dropped onto the couch beside Gabriel. "Yeah. Not..." He rubbed the scar on his palm, out of habit, and continued, "Not law, I don't think. Something more... Something simpler. Less depressing. Like teaching, maybe. You know?" He looked up with a mix of worry and hope and embarrassment on his face. Gabriel smiled.

"You wanna get a teaching degree?" His grin widened. "I can just see that. Big ol' Samsquatch corralling a herd of little rascals." He tilted his head. "Or bratty teenagers, I guess. Kindergartners are cuter though."

Sam laughed, relief clear in his eyes. "Yeah."

Gabriel straightened up. "Well good, then! 'Cause I got news back from that club in downtown Northfield and it turns out they _do_ have space for a new bartender!" He slung an arm around Sam's shoulders, pulling him in conspiratorially. "Wouldn't want you to be bored while I sleep all day after work, hm?"

Sam smiled. "Dumbass."

"You love it."

Sam just hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

Gabe rolled his eyes and flicked the movie back on—some ridiculous Italian movie that didn't even have subtitles, so Sam just watched the characters move about and tried to piece it together from there, until about halfway through when Gabriel started to translate for him in a quiet voice.

... ... ...

Sam swore. He tapped Gabe on the back of the head to get his attention. Gabe looked up from the cookbook he was reading, curious, tilting his head in a similar fashion to his younger brother.

"You need your own car, if you're gonna work and I'm gonna go to school." Sam raised his eyebrows emphatically.

Gabriel's eyes widened a fraction. "Oh, right." He grinned. "Call your brother?"

Sam looked surprised for a few seconds, before he gathered himself. "You don't want a _new_ car?" He crinkled his forehead, smiling softly. "Never would have thought you'd settle for an old junker from Bobby's lot."

"Hey, your brother may be a dick, but I know those two are great with cars. I trust 'em." Gabriel shrugged.

Sam raised his eyebrow. He leaned against the counter, tapped his heel against the dishwasher door.

Gabriel smirked at him. "To be honest, I kinda like old cars, you know?" He laughed quietly to himself. "Something about 'em appeals to me." He smiled more honestly, small and self-depreciating. "Humans and their neat little toys..."

Sam squeezed Gabe's shoulder. "Hey," He leaned down to catch Gabriel's eye. "Don't make that face. I'll call Bobby and we can get it this weekend?" He grinned wide, and Gabe couldn't help but return the expression with a nod. He felt like a child must feel, a bit excited and maybe a little embarrassed.

... ... ...

Gabriel ran a hand over his face—a habit he'd picked up from spending such an inordinate amount of time around the Winchester Brothers.

His dreams had been fairly grim, lately. Nightmares of killing his brother and imbuing the blade with a blast of Grace, of being unable to heal the puncture wound in his abdomen, of leaking even more Grace out into the atmosphere until eventually... It had gone. Had left him practically human, in the care of two Hunters and a socially inept angel.

So he'd basically been forced to stay with those two idiots. But it was the least they could do considering he basically stopped the Apocalypse for them. Dean had given him a begrudging _thanks_ and then left him in Sam's care. Like a child he didn't want to deal with. Sam put up with it—put up with Gabriel's complaints and pranks and mood swings and sudden inability to take care of himself properly.

And somehow, in the days turned weeks turned months turned _years_ they spent in each other's company, Gabriel and Sam started to get along. Even enjoyed being together. Eventually, when their little group—Team Free Will—was staying at Bobby's place with no signs of leaving, the crotchety old man had pointed out that Sam and Gabe were joined at the hip like "goddamn Siamese twins" so why didn't they buy their own damn house. The thought never occurred to them before Singer pointed it out, but... Well. Sam no longer hunted, leaving what few creatures still survived to Dean and Castiel to dispose of, and usually stayed at Singer Salvage with Gabe. (Mostly to prevent Bobby and Gabriel from throttling each other.)

That half-joking suggestion had turned into this.

This... home.

They weren't even exactly in a relationship. Sure they owned a house together, shared a bed, did almost everything together. Even, on occasion, got sexual. (Sex was almost second nature to Gabe, and Sam himself wasn't exactly a tame creature.) But... they hesitated to put a name to their interactions. Not dating, or married, or "together," exactly. Boyfriend, partner, significant other... All sounded wrong and strange. The words didn't quite fit. Didn't make sense. Sometimes they'd try a word—like "couple," in the parking lot— but Sam couldn't look at Gabriel and think _That's my partner_. No. He looked at Gabriel and thought, only, _That's Gabriel. Thank God for Gabriel_.

And Gabriel didn't see a Boyfriend, he saw a Hunter with a killer body who helped him more than any other person he'd ever met. Helped him learn how to function, survive, and even thrive a bit. _That's Sam Winchester. That's the Hunter who saved me after I saved him. That's my new faith._ Not a "boyfriend." Nothing so juvenile. No matter how much Dean might tease them, he just didn't quite get it. The thing he had with Cas—the way they orbited around each other like uncertain stars—was similar to Sam and Gabriel's relationship... But not the same. Not at all. Not nearly as steadfast or even acknowledged. Though that had begun to change.

Gabriel snorted. He and Sam were definitely a special kind of screwed up, but they functioned in a much healthier manner than their brothers.

He threw his head back, letting his eyes pick out patterns in the popcorn ceiling of the living room, listening to some soap opera chattering on in a foreign language. Sure, he had nightmares. Sure, he dreamt of his Father every night. Sure, he missed being able to take down anyone or anything with a snap of his fingers. Sure, he missed being self-sufficient and strong and terrifying.

But he didn't miss pretending to be happy.

Here, when he saw Sam folding towels or reading a book or surfing the web or humming along to the music dripping from the sound system...

Well.

He'd do it all again if it meant being able to live such a contented life, with a clumsy but somehow still swift ex-Hunter.

He liked the little life they'd carved in Minnesota. (Two-hundred miles being close enough to South Dakota that no one would complain about the distance, but far enough for Sam and Gabe to be their own autonomous unit running on fraudulent credit cards until they could build up enough of a basis to survive on their own paychecks.)

Life... Life was good.

... ... ...

"Turn off the fucking light, Gabe. It's almost 3 in the morning."

Gabriel flicked the switch hurriedly, having accidentally turned on the light in his search for the clean pair of pajama pants he knew lay somewhere on the bedroom floor. He'd gotten home at 2:45 am on the dot, and felt a little dizzy from lack of sleep. He needed to work on his sleep schedule so that he could stay up later—He contemplated living a nocturnal life but decided that regular naps sounded preferable to never seeing Sam during daylight.

He finally managed to change, and fell into bed beside Sam, pressing against his side to absorb the ridiculous amount of heat the larger man gave off. His "new" car—a white 1970 Chevy Nova—possessed no working heater. A bit of a dilemma in the Minnesotan November. So he was moderately freezing.

Sam grunted, turning over to wrap Gabe up in his arms. "You're frozen solid. _Jesus_." He flinched away from Gabriel's cold toes with a hiss. Shocking.

"I may be an ice cube, but I am no Messiah." Gabriel grinned crookedly against Sam's shoulder. Sam snorted, grumbling something unintelligible and sighing into Gabe's hair.

Sam Winchester, everyone. Able to fall asleep in under a minute. Gabriel rolled his eyes and settled in, growing warm and comfortable.

... ... ...

Sam let out an irritated groan, dropping the phone into its cradle. He rubbed his forehead. "What a pain." He collapsed onto the couch, slouching against the cushions and stretching his legs out across the floor. He rolled his head to the side, staring at Gabriel for a few seconds before saying, "He'll fix the heater but he's gonna make you pay actual money for it."

Gabriel huffed. "What a tightwad. Doesn't family mean _anything_?" He threw himself down to sprawl across Sam, his heels kicked up on the arm of the sofa.

"To be fair, you aren't family." Sam simpered.

Gabriel feigned offense, making an O with his mouth and putting one palm flat against his chest. "I beg your pardon! We're practically in-laws! I mean, you and I might as well be married!" He tutted softly with a shake of his head.

Sam let out a bark of laughter at that, barely avoiding an inelegant snort. "Right. Well. I guess Dean doesn't think of it that way. But hey, it's not as if he'll charge you full price anyway. And you need a heater or you'll end up turning into an icicle at the wheel." He sit up with a grunt, tossing Gabe to the side as he stood up. Gabriel let out an indignant squawk, nearly falling off the couch. He glared at Sam, who raised an eyebrow and smiled innocently.

"Yeah, yeah..." Gabriel let himself fall back against the sofa once more, looking contemplatively up at the ceiling. "Rather pay for a heater than die, I guess." He sighed dramatically. "Damn I miss my powers."

Sam's expression softened, and he leaned down to ruffle Gabriel's hair, eliciting a strange muffled protest. "Hey," He lowered his voice. "It's not all bad, is it?"

Gabe frowned at Sam. "No." He swatted Sam's hand away. "But it sure sucks that I could _die_ from being the wrong damn temperature. Or that I have to deal with bodily functions at all." He closed his eyes, face calm and thoughtful. "But I mean, if I had to Fall I wouldn't want it to happen any other way, you know? I like it here."

Sam was about to say something when Gabriel continued with a leer. "Besides, I get to ogle your ass every day."

Sam pursed his lips, rolling his eyes. "Way to ruin the moment, douchebag."

Gabriel burst out laughing. Sam just grinned.

... ... ...

Sam opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, sighed, and pointed an accusing finger at Gabriel. "If you die, I'm not paying for the funeral." He raised both eyebrows pointedly.

Gabriel shook his head with a soft chuckle. He ran a finger along the edge of the bandage on his throat. "I'm not gonna die, pipsqueak." He smirked, crossing one ankle over to rest on his knee, leaning back into his chair. "It's just a tattoo. Plenty of people have them."

Sam scoffed, crossing his arms. "Yeah, _I_ have a tattoo. But not on my neck!"

"Oh hush." Gabe waved a dismissive hand. "It'll keep me safe from demons, anyway."

Sam deflated. He nodded, as he sank into the couch cushions. "Yeah, okay."

Gabriel let out a huff of irritated laughter. He rolled his eyes. "Don't give me that, Sam." He slid out of the recliner and onto Sam's lap—just to be annoying—and slung an arm around the larger man's shoulders. "I'm a Fallen Archangel, not a _child_." He rubbed a hand across his eyes. "And as a bartender, I don't really have to worry about getting fired or not getting hired because of some tattoos. Okay?" He patted the back of Sam's neck.

Sam sighed heavily. He fixed Gabe with a steady half-amused glare. "Tattoos, plural?" He raised an eyebrow. "You planning on getting more?"

"Maaaaybe." Gabriel's eyebrows danced up and down, as he grinned.

Sam snorted. "I hope they look terrible, jerk."

"Jackass."

Gabriel finally rolled off of Sam's lap, to just lounge beside him and flick on the TV to something mindless. For Sam, having been at his classes all day, and for Gabriel, having gotten very little sleep still, a droning documentary on orchids seemed the perfect background noise.

They both ended up asleep in under 5 minutes.

... ... ...

"Wow."

Gabriel beamed at Sam, tilting his chin up to get a good look at his throat—and the deep black pentagram wrapped around with spiky thorns to form an anti-possession sigil. It felt nice to have the bandage off, and being able to see the finished product only cemented the level of awesome.

Sam took in all the details, focused as always. "So, it still works? Even though it's not...?"

"What, not like yours?" Gabriel laughed. "Yeah, Sambo. Still works fine. It's got the right shape and that's really the most important part." He turned away from the mirror, yawning. "Now get your ass out of the way. I work today." 4 pm to 2 am on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights. Tiring, but worth it. And just three nights a week wasn't so bad. He was thankful neither of them really _needed_ jobs. This was just a good way to augment their less-than-honest sources of money. Eventually, probably once Sam graduated with his teaching degree, they'd quit stealing entirely, but for now... For now a little bit of credit card fraud and the tips from the bar were just fine to live on.

Sam watched Gabe saunter into the bedroom and quickly change into all black. He frowned. Then smiled, quiet. Gabriel seemed pretty fully integrated into human life, finally. He got frustrated sometimes, sure, but Hell. So did Sam. So did everyone. Considering his once-immense powers, Gabriel had done very well in adapting in the past years.

They said goodbye at the door—a quick hug today, though sometimes it was a kiss or a smile or even, once, a handshake—and once Gabriel's car had safely left the driveway, Sam wandered into the kitchen to start dinner. Something easy to reheat. Spaghetti. Gabriel liked spaghetti even at three in the morning, so Sam figured it would be a safe way to get something moderately healthy into him.

That man was impossible to deal with sometimes, but Sam supposed it was a nice change from dangerous-impossible to childish-impossible. He gathered what he needed and set to work.

... ... ...

"Honey, I'm hooooooooome!"

"_Gabriel!_" Sam threw the bedroom door open and stormed into the main room, glowering darkly down at his companion. "It is almost _five_ in the morning. Where have you _been_!? And if you're going to insist on making a racket every time you come home I _am_ gonna change the locks on the doors and force you to sleep on the porch." His anger was made slightly less terrifying by the fact that he only had a pair of plaid pajama pants on.

Gabriel grinned widely. "Relax! It's Sunday! We can both sleep in!" He pulled his coat off, and patted Sam's arm with a surprisingly soft expression. "Anyway, I found something... On the side of the road." His face grew serious, and he looked up at Sam with something akin to nervousness before pulling him out the door. "Help me get her inside?" His eyebrows pulled together.

Sam froze, watching Gabriel walk to the Chevy Nova. "Her?" He rushed to Gabriel's car, ducking down to see into the backseat where Gabe was rustling around. He heard a whine, and finally saw what Gabriel was pulling gently out of his car.

A dog.

Thin and white. Limp. A cone obscured her face but she looked like a racing dog. Sam jostled Gabriel out of the way and pulled the animal into his arms as carefully as he could, like one would hold a sick baby. "You took her to the vet already?" He met Gabe's eyes, turning back toward the house. Gabriel nodded at him.

"Talk." Sam disappeared into the living room, setting the dog—a borzoi—down in front of the fireplace and working on getting a flame started. Gabriel crouched beside the dog, and smiled softly to himself. Sam was such a sweetheart for animals.

"I had just gotten out of work and I heard something in the alley behind the bar. Found this girl underneath a dumpster, chained to it and..." He ran his hands over his face with a heavy, trembling sigh. "Clearly whoever left her there didn't plan on coming back. So I broke the lock on the chain and took her to the nearest 24-hour animal hospital and got her fixed up enough to be stable, and... Well that's why I'm two and a half hours late." He shrugged. Sam stared at him for a long, long time, and neither of them dared do much more than breathe, with the dog laying asleep between them.

Sam pulled himself to sit beside Gabriel and leaned close to the dog, inspecting her in the soft light from the fire and the lamp in the corner. She seemed mostly okay—underweight, but not wasting away... Her eyes were closed, naturally, but one was covered with a bandage. "Is her eye...?" He frowned in Gabe's direction.

Gabriel smiled bitterly. "Gone." He didn't allow Sam to make eye contact. "Son of a bitch who left her there obviously wanted her dead." He pulled one knee up, resting his arm across it.

Sam reached out carefully to touch Gabriel. Placed a hand flat on his back, and just let it rest. "What's her name gonna be...?"

Gabriel's eyes snapped up to meet his. He smiled, looking back down at the floor. "You're really somethin', you know that?" He leaned into Sam's touch with a deep breath. Let himself smile a little. Closed his eyes. "Maybe... I like Satiné. Her fur is real soft and smooth, after all."

Sam laughed, quietly. "That's pretty. Dean's gonna make fun of her." He pulled Gabriel closer, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. They watched Satiné together for a little bit. Eventually Sam slapped Gabe lightly on the back and said, "You need to sleep." He pulled Gabe to his feet with a grunt, and steered him through the kitchen door toward the rest of the house. "There's no way _I_ can fall back asleep at this point, so you go to bed and I'll keep an eye over Satiné. Okay?"

Gabriel scowled at Sam. Sam did not waver. Finally, he rolled his eyes. "Fine." He gave Sam a quick hug before disappearing into the closet to get his pajamas. Sam returned to the living room, but turned on the coffee machine before settling into the chair beside the fireplace to keep watch over their new dog.

... ... ...

Sam let himself melt into the recliner beside the fire, heaving a long sigh. He closed his eyes against the soft light of the flames. "Thank God that's over."

Gabriel dropped to the floor in front of Sam, leaning against his knees with a mug of hot chocolate cradled in his hands. "That bad?" He tilted his head back to steal a glance.

"I hate finals." Sam cracked one eye open to peer down at Gabe. "What's in the cup?" He leaned forward a bit.

Gabriel smirked. He passed the mug up for Sam to taste a sip. "Cocoa with bourbon." He planted a hand on either of Sam's knees and pulled himself up into his lap, plastering himself against Sam and settling in. Satiné eyed them both dolefully from her bed in front of the fireplace, baffled by their antics. Gabriel stuck his tongue out at her and swiped his hot chocolate back from Sam—apparently the big ol' moose liked it quite a bit, because he made a little offended noise in the back of his throat.

"Relax, Sammy Boy. We can _share_." Gabe flicked his new seat on the nose, and sipped from his mug. Nothin' quite like a hot (alcoholic) drink by the fire on a cold day, using a significant other as an ass warmer. He chuckled to himself, when Sam locked his arms around Gabriel's waist with a huff and a half-laugh.

"You're just trying to swap spit." He grimaced into Gabe's hair. "Gonna use it for some secret experiment and make a buncha clones."

Gabriel nearly inhaled his hot chocolate. He coughed to clear his throat and turned his head enough to look Sam straight in the eye and growl, "Sasquatch, if I wanted to swap spit I would just kiss you." He raised both eyebrows to punctuate his point. Sam laughed at him. The dog's good eye blinked. Sam stared Gabe down and responded with a peck to the cheek before settling back against the chair and closing his eyes, humming to himself softly.

Gabriel smiled, amused, and watched the flames flicker to the noise of the rain hitting the roof.

... ... ...

"It's snowing."

Sam swore. He glowered out the window at the thick snow falling. "_Really_?" He snatched his jacket from the back of the couch and grumbled his way over to the coat rack to shrug into a thicker coat as well. "I mean, I know it's Minnesota but that's a lot of snow." He zipped his jacket up, glaring at Gabriel's snickering from the couch. (Some cupcake baking competition was on the Food Network.) He leaned over the back of the couch and pressed their lips together, and growled "You know I can always overpower you and tie you to the bed if you get on my nerves, right?" into Gabe's mouth before disappearing out the door in a rush of freezing air and stray snowflakes. Gabriel cursed under his breath.

"Now that's just unfair."

Satiné whined at him, her good eye bright with curiosity. He waved a hand at her and returned his attention to Cupcake Wars with a great deal of willpower, trying to focus on baked goods and not the ideas planted in his thoughts by Samuel Winchester. The saucy little _minx_. Gabriel let himself fall into rooting for quirky baking teams and wished for Sam to get hit in the face with a snowball between classes.

... ... ...

Gabriel loved tending bars. He liked the little bachelorette parties who came to gay bars to avoid being hit on, and the shy young men who didn't really drink, and the gruff but sweet guys who flirted as easily as breathing without really meaning anything by it, and the young women who danced between the gay boys, and the atmosphere in general.

He _didn't_ like the rich boys with winter tans who eyed the new kids like meat, or the rude older men who didn't believe in taking "no" for an answer or the abrasive women who showed up because interacting with "the gays" was trendy.

But it was a job, and meant a little less fraud which meant a happier Sammy. And the lengths he would go to for Samuel, who taught him how to _survive_. Sam Winchester who showed how to do things he'd never needed to understand—like how to cut an apple and how to use the shower and how to cook and get dressed. How to drive a car, and how to breathe when he was exhausted from walking farther than he'd ever had to walk. How to wash the dishes, how to brush his teeth (three times a day so the candy wouldn't destroy them), what to eat to stay alive and healthy, how to tie his shoes, how to do the laundry, when to look at the sky. How to tell someone "I need you" without using any words. How to dance, and how to turn on the television. How to ask for help when he needed it, without being ashamed of how weak he had become. How to feel alive again.

Gabriel didn't even realize he was smiling until a young lady—probably newly twenty-one—slid into a stool and drawled, "Who're you thinkin' 'bout?" with a teasing little grin. She popped her gum and chuckled when Gabriel licked his lips with a smirk.

"I don't know what you're talkin' about, ma'am." He leaned his elbows on the glossy black bar top and raised an eyebrow. "What'll you have?"

The woman tapped her pink lips with a finger, head tilted to the side with a hum. "I'd like somethin' real fruity if you don't mind." She held up one hand, and almost as an afterthought, added, "But not too sweet!" He smiled.

Gabriel winked. "I'll see what I can do!" He whirled towards the booze. Fruity but not overly sweet? Hmmm... He smiled. "It's practically morning. How do you feel about a mimosa?" He raised one eyebrow high, questioning. "That or a Japanese slipper with vodka, maybe?"

She took a few moments to think, nodded to herself. "A mimosa sounds fine. Light on the orange juice, though." She grinned.

"Gotcha." Gabe winked again, and turned around to mix her drink. He hummed along with the music—tonight was a laid back night and someone had put on _Born to Die_ by Lana Del Rey. The entire album, not just the song. He sighed, happy, and whisked the lady her drink.

She gave him a very friendly simper. "What's your name, handsome?" Her pretty green nails tapped the bar to the beat of "Summertime Sadness."

Gabriel made his mouth into an O. "Are you flirting?" He smirked at her. "'Cause I'm already taken. But the name's Gabriel." He held his hand out to shake, and the woman took it with firm grip, sipping from her drink.

"I'm Persephone. And before you say anything—I know it's a silly name." She rolled her eyes, wrapping her fingers—slim and dark and elegant—around her glass.

Gabe didn't say a word, taking in her appearance and demeanor—short blue hair, pale pink lipstick, smoky makeup, gray eyes, dark skin, well-kept nails, and dark clothes with bursts of greens and yellows and blue—and he pulled a thoughtful face. "I think it suits you. Persephone was quite the firecracker, yanno." He laughed quietly, seemingly at himself. A kind of disappointed laugh. Persephone eyed him, a serious and intrigued expression on her face.

"I'll take your word for it." She snorted. "So, you said you're taken? That who you were thinkin' about when I got here?" She waggled her eyebrows, and Gabe felt almost like he was talking to a sister or a female version of himself. Suggestive, confident, and flirty. Like he used to be.

He grimaced, feigning embarrassment. "Was it that obvious?"

"Yes." Persephone pointed a finger at him. "Tell me about this man or woman you like so much."

Gabe shifted, feeling just a little uncomfortable. He took a breath. Might as well do it. His list of wonderful things about Samuel Winchester was practically endless, and some days he felt like bursting with no one to talk to. But it was still a little... odd... what they had. Not named or really completely acknowledged. They never said "I love you." Didn't need to. But...

"Well, he's really damn tall. Six foot four!" Gabriel widened his eyes. "Can you _believe_ it?!"

Persephone gave another of her low chuckles. "Handsome?"

Gabriel grinned. "Absolutely. He's got dimples! Cutest smile I've ever seen. Gorgeous hair that would make any woman—or man, really—jealous for weeks. His arms are amazing and he's probably one of the most clumsy and awkward people I've ever met, but I swear to Our Father in Heaven I could do my laundry on his abs if I needed to." He winked, and Persephone let out a peal of laughter, covering her mouth with her hand. Gabe continued. "His legs are real long and they're always in the way, and his jeans show off his ass just right—" More laughter. The woman was feisty but clearly couldn't hold her alcohol. "And his eyes are gorgeous."

"Aw, c'mon! Everyone has gorgeous eyes according to the people who like 'em!" Persephone slapped the bar. "Tell me _why_ they're gorgeous! What color?"

Gabriel fell still at that. He opened his mouth and closed it with a frown. "What color?" He hummed. "Well, they're kinda wild. Like..." He took a breath. "Some kinda crazy hazel is what they are. This dark kinda grey blue, mostly, but in the middle they're a really warm, golden brown." He smiled. "Ah man, I feel silly talking about this." He scratched the back of his neck. Persephone smiled understandingly at him, gentle and sweet.

"Go on. I like to listen to people talk about their loved ones." She rested her cheek against her knuckles, fingers curling in to brush against her palm. She looked completely attentive.

Gabe sighed. "Yeah? I dunno. He... He's really kind. A much better person than I've ever been." Persephone seemed about to protest at that, but he raised a hand and stopped her before she could say anything. "No. You don't know the kind of things I've done. We've both done terrible things, me and him... But he has atoned for it in so many ways and never, ever did anything with cruel intentions—not when he was aware of himself. I've... done awful things. Things I regret so much and things he should never have forgiven me for. But... He _has_. He taught me how to live." Gabriel trailed off.

Persephone was silent, looking at him strangely.

Gabe pasted on a weak smile. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be all weird." He cleared his throat, straightening up.

"You really love him."

Gabriel froze. "What?"

Persephone leveled her gaze on him, steady and serious. "He's real important to you, isn't he? The way you talk about him; he's your Messiah." She twirled a lock of hair around her fingers. Didn't look away.

Gabriel swallowed thickly. Did he love Sam like that. Capital L-o-v-e? His heart raced a bit around him but... was it really that kind of emotion, or was it lust? Both? Familial love? Neither? Gabriel opened his mouth, about to say he didn't know.

"Bar tender!"

He swallowed back his words, and instead said, "Sorry ma'am. Looks like we're getting busy. I'll make you another mimosa when I'm done with this guy." He rushed away, grateful to be distracted from this suddenly serious conversation with a stranger. Customers began to filter in more and more, and the music switched from Lana's liquid coal voice to the more upbeat tones of Ke$ha and Queen as the lights turned throbbing, and Gabriel kept himself busy mixing drinks for loud boys and glamorous women. A strawberry daiquiri here, a rusty nail there, and an abundance of appletinis and Long Island iced teas. The next time he turned around, Persephone had gone, and though he felt a twinge of guilt, Gabriel was relieved.

A stout young man with a too-small shirt shouted at him for a tonic & gin, and Gabriel lost himself in making drinks he'd memorized long ago from years of watching tired men in grimy bars drown themselves in liquor and salty peanuts.

He was grateful, at the end of the cold night, to get home from work and slip into bed without a word and cling to Sam's warm body until he felt grounded, when Sam sighed in his sleep and pulled Gabriel into his arms like he needed Gabe just as much as Gabe needed him.

The dog snored at their feet.

The devil's trap on the wall glowed comfortingly.

Gabriel relaxed into a dreamless sleep, listening to the sound of Sam's breath through his chest.

... ... ...

The doorbell rang urgently, twice, pulling Gabriel from his dazed nap. He heard the sound of Sam answering the door as if through a haze, urgent voices and then hurried footsteps. He sat up, hair wild, just as Sam popped back into the room, haloed with the glow of Christmas lights. Gabriel made a questioning noise.

Sam's eyes snapped toward him. "You're awake." He pulled his boots on.

"What's goin' on...?" Gabriel frowned, scratching the back of his head.

Sam gave him a tight frown, and nodded his head toward the front of the house. "Jude—The neighbor's son—went missing." He patted himself down, and grabbed his phone from the nightstand as Gabe shot to his feet, rummaging for a pair of jeans and pulling them on.

"_Shit_, really?" He laced up his sneakers (if one could call them that, considering their gaudy metal toecaps) and followed Sam into the living room, where Maria sat fidgeting on the couch with red eyes and trembling fingers. The Christmas tree by the fireplace lit her up with bright colors in the dusk. She looked up at them, and wiped her eyes. Sam rested a hand on her shoulder with a reassuring smile, while Gabriel shrugged into a coat.

"They were on a walk and Jude ran ahead, chasing a squirrel. She heard him yell, looked for him for a long time, but he wasn't anywhere." Sam buttoned up his own jacket, pocketing two pairs of gloves. "That was two hours ago. We're gonna look for him, and Maria—" He turned to her, taking her hands in his with a plaintive look. "Is going to go home and wait, just in case he comes back. Okay?" The frazzled woman gave a hard nod. Samuel simpered at her, and turned to Gabe again. "We might need to _hunt_ for him for a long time." He raised his eyebrows.

Gabriel's eyes widened. He nodded, quick and sharp, grabbed Sam's collar to pull him close and whispered, "Be careful."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm experienced. Your phone charged?"

Gabriel nodded. "Mostly. It'll last another five hours, at least." He smiled at Maria. "I take it we're splitting up?" Sam nodded. Gabriel sighed, nibbling at his lip. He clapped his hands. "Alright, let's go then!"

Sam slapped him on the back in affirmation, before stomping out into the snowy yard to escort Maria to her car. He got into his own truck, while Gabriel locked up the house and headed to the Nova, watching the poor mother pull away and drive off into the light snow, illuminated by the beginnings of the early sunset on the longest night of the year.

When he was sure Maria had gone, Sam signaled Gabriel—a flick of his hand indicating he would head toward the north—and pulled out of the driveway. Gabriel gave him a wave and jerked his head westward, slipping into his car. Sam nodded, and they shared one last grim glance before Sam was off and Gabriel was turning onto the road.

Gabriel headed toward Northfield for a while, but turned toward the Arboretum during the last few minutes of the drive, figuring the heavily forested area, relatively uninhabited especially during December, would be the ideal place to search for a lost boy with the distinct possibility of supernatural intervention. Not to mention, it was highly unlikely that Jude would be in town, and if there was anywhere he would be among the expanse of staggered fields and forests, it probably _was_ the Arboretum. Maria hadn't said where they had been walking—or at least, Sam hadn't told Gabriel—but a large cultivated forest made more sense than barren fields. He parked the car beneath the shelter of a swath of branches, noting the wind picking up and driving the snow nearly sideways. He pulled his collar tight, flexed his fingers in their woolen gloves, and made sure he had the police flashlight from the trunk before locking the car.

The lot was empty and silent. Almost hollow-feeling. Gabriel puffed a cloudy breath apprehensively, and shot Sam a quick text.

_At the arboretum gonna search woods_

He looked up at the sickly pinkish sky, feeling somewhat ill. His phone buzzed almost immediately.

_Cool. I'm out NE at the lake gonna check cemetery first._

Gabriel licked his lips. The cemetery by the lake certainly seemed a good place to start. Gabe only hoped that Sam wouldn't find the boy _in_ Lake Byllesby. A drowned son was not a good Christmas gift. He took a deep breath, sending out a little prayer to whoever would listen on the exhale, and set off down the path into the forest, accompanied by nothing but the sound of the snow crunching under his feet and the wilderness murmuring around him.

At first it was fairly light—thanks to the way the snow and pale sky made everything glow—but as Gabriel made his way further into the forest and the moon drifted higher into the sky, his surroundings grew darker. He whistled half-heartedly to himself, flicking the switch on his heavy flashlight and kind of wishing he'd brought Satiné along. If someone attacked him, he doubted he'd be able to protect himself very well considering he had a decidedly _petite_ body, and still wasn't particularly adept at fighting with it. All his senses felt so much duller than before. He blew a breath up against his nose to warm it up, and tried not to jump at every tiny crackle of sound.

His fingers grew stiffer as the night progressed, even through his soft gloves, and his nose and ears had begun to ache with chill. The moon was far-flung in the sky, obscured by a group of thick clouds, and an enormous blanket of stars plastered themselves against the darkness. Gabe shivered violently, and pulled out his phone.

_Any luck kidddo_

He grumbled at his clumsy fingers, and watched the slow spin of the buffering symbol, until eventually the message sent. The light on the front of his phone flashed red at him. The battery seemed worryingly low. Gabriel had overestimated its life, clearly. He just hoped it stayed alive until he got home. The phone buzzed.

_Nothing. You?_

Gabriel sighed.

_NoPe Phone is dying meet back homme in 1 hr?_

He waited for the reply—a simple "Sure"—before pocketing the phone again and steeling himself to turn down the path through a tangled tunnel of blackened, damp branches sagging low with the weight of snow and ice. He kept his eyes on the trees, sweeping his beam of light back and forth, back and forth.

It was for precisely this reason that he quite unexpectedly found himself lying on the ground, having tripped over something in his path. He closed his eyes, hissing. Twisted ankle. He sat up, turning to see what he'd fallen over. A heavy horse shoe.

In the distance, hounds bayed.

Gabriel groaned. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me." He sat up straighter and pulled his sprained ankle close to him, toeing at the metal shoe with his other foot. He dug his phone out of his pocket, sliding it open. Black. He swore under his breath. Threw his head back to face the sky, closed his eyes and took a moment to compose himself. He listened.

More howling. Definitely large dogs of some sort. A distant whinny. Rattling chains.

And the shouts of a child.

Gabriel's eyes shot open. "Fuck!" He grabbed the horse shoe and rolled to his feet, wincing when he put weight on his right ankle. The frantic sounds of the Hunt pulled closer, until he could separate out the different noises. Uneven hoof beats, the violent barks of dogs, and the crying out of a terrified little boy. Gabriel hurled the horse shoe into the trees. It snapped countless branches on its way to land with a crash in the frost-encased bushes.

Sudden silence.

Then Jude barreled out of the trees, pale and dirty and streaked with tears, clothes ripped. Gabriel snatched him up in his arms. Jude fastened his legs tight around Gabe's waist and Gabriel began to limp as fast as he could in the direction he had come from. Deafening barks and snarls sounded behind him. He willed himself not to look back. Not to see those rolling black eyes and bloodied white snouts with snapping teeth. The poorly shorn horse with oily white flank, mounted by a dark rider with black horns twisting from his head. Odin—not the god, but rather a demon of the same name—who shouted out in his mother tongue to goad the beasts on. The sounds of the Hunt grew louder and louder. Gabriel bit the inside of his mouth, steeled himself, and ran.

Every step sent a jagged streak of pain up his shin but Gabriel grit his teeth and breathed heavily through his nose, clutching Jude close to him. The trees reached out from the darkness and everything seemed warped—the combination of cold air, pain, exertion and the onset of mild dehydration made Gabe very dizzy, and the boy's added weight didn't help. But adrenaline and terror drove him on.

Finally, the lot loomed into view. Gabriel nearly cried out with joy but instead used his energy to sprint to the car, then dropped Jude to the ground and heaved the trunk open with great effort. He dragged his bag of emergency road salt out and pulled out his pocket knife to slice the bag open. With a grunt, he spilled salt around the car and closed the circle just as Odin's horse burst out of the forest. Gabriel shoved Jude into the backseat, and fell into the front, closing his eyes, trying to block out the sound of the horse's scream of frustration, and the hounds' shrieking howls.

He breathed heavily.

In the back seat, Jude sobbed.

Gabriel moved his wrist close to his face, squinting to read his watch. He was supposed to meet Sam at the house in five minutes.

There was no way he could drive, and he would have to wait for the Hunt to leave before he could even _think_ about pulling out of the salt ring. And even then, it would be a gamble. His only safe bet was dawn. Dawn, which was hours and hours away. Gabriel held back a half-sob of frustration and threw his hand to reach around the back of the seat, murmuring half-articulated words in Enochian to reassure the child that everything would be fine. Jude wrapped his little hand around Gabe's fingers and squeezed. Gabriel's head swam. He needed to close the door and turn on the heater, but moving seemed so difficult.

Muffled beneath the bays of the hounds, Jude whimpered and sniffled softly.

Gabriel took a harsh breath and sat up with a grimace. He nodded at the kid, and pulled his legs into the car, holding back a pained whine. He slammed the door shut, and the terrifying sounds of the Wild Hunt became somewhat muffled. A turn of the keys, and the lights flashed on while the engine rumbled in protest of the cold. He cranked the heat up, adding more noise to drown out the dogs and horse, and then turned the radio on. "Highway to Hell." Perfect. Gabriel turned around in his seat and gave his hand a little flick, meeting the boy's eyes. "C'mon. Get up in the front."

Jude nodded mutely and clambered into the passenger seat, pulling the seatbelt tight around him out of habit. Gabriel smiled. It probably looked more like a glare.

"You just sit tight, and when Sammy gets here you tell him the Wild Hunt came and that I fractured my ankle, okay?" He pulled a tight expression, attempting to smile more naturally. The child looked spooked, and confused.

Jude fidgeted. "Won't _you_ be able to tell him?" He tilted his head, and it reminded Gabriel so much of his little brother he couldn't hold back a small, semi-delirious giggle.

"Nope. Sorry kid. I'm probably gonna be... _sleeping_... when Uncle Sam shows up. 'Kay?" He grit his teeth and moved his legs to a more comfortable position, the interior of the car swimming in front of his eyes. "Don't be scared when I fall asleep, honey. Just listen to the music." He sighed.

Jude nodded.

Gabe gave him a lazy salute. "Good boy."

His vision went white and red.

... ... ...

"Fuck. I feel like I got hit by a _truck_." Gabriel blinked his eyes open. The light seared, so he closed them again, throwing an arm across his face and letting himself slowly adjust. Finally, he opened his eyes completely and managed to get into a halfway-sitting position. He looked blearily around him. Living room. He was on the couch. The bright glow was from the strings of fairy lights that lined the edges of the ceiling and the Christmas tree in the corner. Pathetic, being blinded by holiday lights.

Gabriel flicked his eyes toward the dimly glowing television. The ballet. He snorted. Then flinched a little as he noticed the big round eyes staring worriedly at him from over the back of the couch. He sent a weak smile Jude's way, raising his hand in a limp wave. "Heya, sweetie."

Jude blinked. "Hi."

"Can you get Sammy for me, Jude?" Gabe sat up straighter and in so doing shifted his leg, causing a flash of pain to lance up his leg. He fell back against the pillow he'd been using with a whimper. He never knew a busted ankle could hurt so much.

Jude was gone and back in a flash, with not only Sam Winchester but also Maria Clearwater at his heels. Sam dropped to his knees beside the couch and cupped Gabriel's face in his hands, forcing his head up so their eyes met. "Jude says you broke your ankle."

Gabriel snorted. "Nice to see you too, _sweetpea_." He stared at Sam for a few seconds, then pressed his face against Sam's palm. "Just a fracture. Was a sprain but I aggravated it by running and it hurts like _fuck_." He pulled himself into a sitting position more carefully this time, making sure not to move his leg and using Sam as something to steady himself on. He kissed Sam's palm. "We got any drugs for this?"

Sam closed his eyes with a sigh. "Yeah. I gave some to you while you were half-conscious, five minutes ago. Leftover Vicodin from when you got that root canal." He laid Gabriel back against the cushions.

Gabriel nodded, making a face of revelation. "No wonder I feel so loopy. Still hurts. And I might throw up so maybe get a bucket and some fruit because you know, you're supposed to eat food with painkillers." He smiled. The edges of his mind felt a little fuzzy but the deep ache in his leg grew less harsh every second.

Sam grinned, tiny and worried and relieved, before planting a kiss on Gabe's forehead and standing. He muttered something to Maria and headed to the kitchen. Gabriel felt himself drift off to a half-sleep while he waited.

... ... ...

Gabe switched the television off, adjusting the way his cast was propped on the couch—turned out that by running with a second grader in his arms he had managed not only to further fracture the bone but had actually snapped it clean through by the time they got to the car. He assumed the only reason he hadn't noticed was adrenaline and fear. He scowled at his foot. "Hey, Sammy."

Sam looked up from the laptop, instinctual worry in his eyes. Gabriel rolled his eyes and Sam visibly relaxed. He leaned forward. "Sam. What happened?" Gabriel hadn't asked yet, because he honestly hadn't wanted to know, really. But curiosity got the better of him after only a day confined to the couch.

Sam sighed. "Well... You didn't meet me, at home, so I got a little... apprehensive. I waited twenty minutes and when you still didn't show up I figured something must have gone wrong because the Arboretum's not that far from here." He took a breath, wiping his palms on his pants. So I picked up Maria, just... To check in and make sure I could keep her safe, just in case. I dunno man. Anyway." He snorted. "We got there and your car was just sitting there with your goddamn donut of salt—seriously dude you used like the entire bag!"

Gabriel stuck his tongue out. "Hey, I was wounded and frightened!" He raised an eyebrow. "Jeez."

Sam laughed. He ran a hand along his jaw, feeling the beginnings of stubble. "Yeah, well... Anyway there wasn't anything there anymore and I saw Jude but not you so I got a bit uneasy but it turns out you were just passed out, apparently. Nearly gave me a heart attack." He snorted. "I moved you to the back seat and had Maria drive you _both_ here."

"And?" Gabriel gestured widely.

Sam shrugged, glancing at the magazine on the table. "And... nothing. I tried to track the Wild Hunt—or whatever it was. But... the trail kinda just disappeared." He rubbed his mouth, pensive. "So I came home." He frowned.

Gabriel nodded, and reached for his glass of water. In the US, the Hunt never stuck around for long if the prey managed to escape, and in this case a ring of salt acted as the getaway plan. Thank God. He breathed out a sigh. Closed his eyes against the dim lights. "So I guess this means we're probably not going to Sioux Falls for Christmas?" He smirked.

The face Sam pulled was great in its sheer levels of frustration. The ex-Hunter groaned and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. "I called Bobby and told him what's up." He snorted. "He's pissed but... They're bringing the party over here. Everyone." Sam's smile exuded more terror than happiness.

Gabriel laughed. Everyone. Singer, Sheriff Mills, Castiel, Dean, Garth—there was no keeping that twig of a man away—and, of all people, Balthazar. How that ass got wind of their little holiday gathering escaped Gabriel but he would bet money Cas had accidentally let something slip. That made two people they really didn't _want_ around but wouldn't kick out. Six total. They'd fit. He rested his head against the arm of the couch. "Oh joy. You'll have to help me cook."

"Ohhh, no. _No_. You are not cooking." Sam slid his laptop to the side and stood, stretching 'til his shirt rode up a teeny bit. He took a deep breath, planting his hands on his hips—his dominant stance. "You are gonna stay either on the couch or in bed and move as little as possible for the next _week_, and then when you _do_ move around it will be very limited. Got it?" He pursed his lips.

His tone brooked no disagreement.

Gabriel scoffed and crossed his arms. "Fine."

Sam raised his eyebrows in a way that said,_ That's what I thought_.

... ... ...

"Dude! Never, ever, _ever_ go out without your phone completely charged! In this kinda profession it can be the difference between living and getting your spine ripped out through your throat!" Dean flew his arms wide and dropped his fork with a clatter. "Shit." He leaned down the pick it up, but Castiel already had it in hand, and passed it to him. Dean fumbled an awkward _thanks_ and returned to his ham with enthusiasm. "Anyway," He spoke through a mouthful of food. "You sure it was the Wild Hunt? Never heard about them bein' very active in the States."

Gabriel gesticulated violently at him with a snort of, "I think I can identify a Hunt when I see one, Dean." He made his best imitation bitchface and sipped at his glass of champagne. Dean pulled a childish expression and licked at the edge of his plate.

Jody, Dean and Bobby spent most of the night getting hammered.

Balthazar and Castiel drank enough from Gabriel's liquor cabinet that he actually made the effort to get out of his chair (when Sam was distracted) to go slap them both upside the head with a hissed, "You better replace what you drank, or I'll tan your hides. Don't care if I'm not an angel anymore. I'm still the big bro." With much grumbling, both backed off from the booze and Castiel moved to be near Dean, while Balthazar began streaming off some bawdy tale he'd probably fabricated to a barely conscious Garth. (The scrawny slip had drunk a bottle of beer, and was ready to zonk out already!)

Gabriel rolled his eyes, and settled back into the recliner, taking a deep breath. His head tingled somewhat. Sure, champagne wasn't as strong as the whiskey in Jody's glass, but after a few glasses Gabe began to feel a tad fizzy and red. It made him blush. He watched Sam through the kitchen doorway—he was in front of the oven, wrapping aluminum foil around the remains of the ham and shoving it into the fridge. Gabriel smiled. He enjoyed it when Sam spent time in the kitchen. A lovely combination of things he liked. Food and Sam Winchester. He liked it better, of course, when they were in the kitchen together. Not being allowed to do much more than lay around being useless made Gabriel feel expendable or lazy or... or something. Helpless.

Sam rolled his shoulders (and _oh_ did Gabriel appreciate those wide shoulders) and turned around, drying his hands on a dish towel after having rinsed out some bowls. He caught Gabe's eye and smiled as he reentered the living room. He kicked at Dean on his way to the chairs by the fireplace, eliciting a drunken insult, and sat on the arm of Gabriel's chair, ruffling his hair. Behind them, Garth erupted into raucous giggles and Balthazar chuckled. Bobby swore at them, and Jody just laughed and laughed while Dean and Cas undoubtedly made eyes at each other.

Gabriel and Sam laced their fingers together—and that was... not a usual thing for them, but it was nice. It was good. Satiné cocked her head with a curious whine and threw herself down in front of the fireplace to eye her people with one big brown eye. She sent a little whuff their way and closed her eye. Gabe laughed under his breath. "What a drama queen, eh?" He closed his eyes for a few moments, focusing entirely on the slide of Sam's palm over his knuckles.

Sam's low chuckle—completely different from Balthazar's—sent a pleasantly possessive feeling up Gabriel's spine, and Gabe leaned close to him, pressing his head against Sam's shoulder so he could hear the way Sam's breath moved through him and the rumble of his voice when he said, "You look wiped out, Gabe. Bedtime?"

Gabriel cracked an eye open, scowling, but admitted, "Yeah, I guess."

Sam snorted, and slid off the chair to stand. "Want me to carry you, or can you walk?" He winked teasingly.

Gabriel smirked. "I dunno, Big Boy. That champagne went right through me. Might collapse on the way." He wiggled his eyebrows. Sam pursed his lips, torn between amusement and hilariously _obvious_ worry that Gabe really would fall down in the middle of the hall. He held out his hand in a compromise, pulled Gabriel to his feet. Gabriel returned the wink from before, slid his arm through Sam's, and let his big ol' moose escort him to the bedroom, leaving the unwieldy crutches to lay on the floor in the living room.

All he really caught from Sam before sliding into unconsciousness was "Gonna lock up the alcohol and get everyone settled," and then Gabriel promptly fell into a deep, almost stifling, sleep.

... ... ...

_Big, heavy flames. Greasy and tinged with red and that sickly shade of orange that always seemed to thread through gasoline fires. A screaming wall of it stroking up into the black sky. Black with smoke, not with night. A weak line or two of sunlight plummeted through gaps in the cloudy smog here and there but more than anything else, it was dark. The fire sent thick shadows to wrap around the remnants of a twisted, crushed vehicle. And others like it. A graveyard of cars and buildings with blown out windows, everything burning and singeing and shrieking as metal bent and glass exploded._

_Sirens howled off in the distance but they grew more and more distant, not closer._

_Gabriel couldn't move his body. His head would turn, his hands would twitch, his eyes rolled wildly but he couldn't sit or shift his body around. He felt dry, and felt ash coating his skin and smoke filling his lungs. He was much too hot, but the tips of his fingers, his feet, his temples—all felt colder than they ought to and his head filled with the _**thud thud thud**_ of his pulse shattering his skull and his lips were numb. Cracked asphalt and broken glass dug into his back and logically, he must have been bleeding, but he couldn't really feel much at that point. Couldn't even tell if he was breathing._

_Somewhere, unreachable, Sam was in a similar condition. Gabriel knew this, in the same way he knew that the sky was usually blue and chocolate meant comfort._

_He turned his head to look down the road through the heat distortion and sparks, to see the road go off far to the horizon, where the air was clean._

_A reedy whine bubbled from his throat. Still some pain, especially when he moved._

_Something collapsed nearby, and sent up the sound of scraping metal and glass, and a few shards bounced past Gabe's face. One little sliver of glass landed on his cheek. Burned._

_Gabriel figured the soft sobbing noises came from him._

_He thought he could see Sam's hand reaching for his, then, but everything was so dark and his vision was blurring so bad and it all went real white real fast..._

"Gabriel!" Gabe's eyes shot open with a strangled gasp, and Sam was right there, looking panicked, shaking him.

Gabe sat up, breathing hard and fast, clutching at Sam's arm hard enough to leave fingerprints. He took a few deep breaths, and loosened his fingers, and looked at Sam. Sent him a shaky smile. "Bad dream." He cleared his throat. Reached for the cup of water and when it wasn't there, realized the mug was in pieces on the floor by the bed. That probably explained why Sam had suddenly shouted him awake.

Sam frowned, and wiped his thumb across Gabriel's cheekbone. It came away bloody. Ah.

Gabriel laughed to himself. "Christ." He rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Sam. I know I'm a piece of fuckin' work right now." He dug his knuckles against his eyelids, watching the way the pressure sent explosions like flowers across his vision.

Sam tugged at his wrists. "Hey, hey." He forced Gabriel's chin up so their eyes met. "You know I've been through this kind of thing before. It'll work out." He smiled reassuringly, and Gabriel couldn't prevent himself from melting back against the pillows and twining their fingers together. He smirked back at Sam.

"You burnin' something?"

Sam swore and surged to his feet, practically tripping out of the room in his hurry to save whatever it was he'd been cooking before Gabriel broke his water cup. Gabriel chuckled. Sam still managed to be incurably clumsy even in his thirties. Adorable. _Usually_.

Just when Gabriel started to get curious about what Sam was making, Sam popped his head around the doorframe and said, "If you're hungry, I made a sausage scramble and some coffee." He grinned. Gabriel nodded at him, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and disentangling himself from the sheets. Carefully avoiding the remnants of his mug, he wiggled his toes, scratching at his ankle brace, and limped after Sam with a yawn. Thank God he was almost fully healed. He'd never expected it to take so long, unused to being so... weak. But his vessel had not been young when he took him, and definitely wasn't young now, either. Took longer to heal than someone Sam's age, or younger. Old age, though... That would be something to look forward to, perhaps. An adventure.

But for that moment, sausage and eggs!

... ... ...

Gabriel shot Sam Winchester a glare fit to freeze the ocean. He crossed his arms. He may have even pouted—not that he'd admit it. Sam rolled his eyes, and raised his eyebrows. "Take it." The tone that no one possessed the ability to refuse.

Gabriel snatched the bag from Sam's hands with an exasperated scoff—like the noise a teenage girl makes when her mom asks her to do the dishes or turn down her music. He glowered at the bag for a few seconds before opening it up to peer inside. A prescription for blood pressure medication that was known mainly for being helpful with nightmares. In fact, they'd spoken to one person who'd taken it and she'd informed them that the drug did not make her dream less often. Rather, it shaped all of her dreams into these very light, airy, overly happy, strange things. So now they had a prescription for Gabe. Anyway, he could probably use lower blood pressure.

Gabriel felt he had no need for some damn drug, but Sam worried and prodded and insisted, so he agreed. And now it sat in the bottom of a paper bag, taunting him with its fluorescent orange bottle and child-proof cap. "You owe me a foot massage for this, Sambo." He raised an eyebrow pointedly.

Sam laughed. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say _your Majesty_." He nudged Gabriel's shoulder with a playful fist, and started up the truck.

"I hate you." Gabriel shoved the bag in the pocket of his jacket.

"Jackass."

"Bitchwaffle."

Sam snorted. "_What?_" He glanced at Gabe from the corner of his eye, paying careful attention to the road but grinning wide enough to split his face. "What the Hell kind of insult is 'bitchwaffle'? You're losing your touch, Old Man." Damn his dimples were cute.

"Yuk it up, ya little _whippersnapper_." Gabriel stretched his legs out somewhat, throwing an arm across the bench seat. "Anyway, I may be eons older than you but I sure have aged well." His eyebrows danced.

Sam smirked right back. "Yeah?" He took a sharp turn to head northeast. "Well that's good, 'cause if you looked your age I think we'd get a lot weirder looks."

Gabriel laughed out loud.

... ... ...

The first dream Gabe had on his new drugs was... _interesting_. To say the least.

Not that he'd never had weird dreams before. Really, weird was the norm when it came to his dreams. But... a fluffy soft atmosphere—almost hazy—and a strange sweet feeling was not normal for him.

Nor were dreams wherein he simply lay in a hammock in a pastel grove, with rabbits shuffling around in the (frighteningly vibrant) grass. Later he would remember the dream and think that it reminded him of a TV show he'd seen once, with a town called Coeur d'Coeurs and a lot of pie and bright colors.

He told his dream to Sam in the morning, curled together in the dim light, listening to the late winter rain. "It was so... Easter-y." He shook his head.

Sam snickered under his breath. "Sounds nice." He reached up to muss Gabe's hair, and Gabriel swatted at him.

"Yeah, well it's better than what I had before." Gabriel retaliated, lunging up and using both hands to make Sam's bedhead even worse. Sam shoved him away, and pinned him to the bed.

He smiled. "I could tell. You were stiller than a statue all night, even when Satiné stuck her nose up your pant leg." His expression gentled. "Must've been pretty tired, huh?"

Gabriel huffed. "Maybe a bit." He pushed at Sam's shoulder, in a feeble attempt to get him off. Sam settled down more sturdily and slid one arm up to frame Gabe's face. Gabriel rolled his eyes, but he grinned. "Ass." He tapped his knuckles against Sam's jaw.

"My ass is _great_, so I don't see how that's an insult." Sam leered. Gabriel slapped his arm lightly, muttering something about innuendo being his damn job, and _When did you get so perverted? _

Sam just laughed and kissed his neck. He stilled, thoughtful. Gabriel raised an eyebrow, turning his head enough to barely brush their noses together.

"Candy for your thoughts?" He winked, but it was more subdued than usual.

Sam snorted. "'S nothing." He peered slightly cross-eyed at Gabe, and Gabriel grinned.

"Alright, dollface."

Sam smiled.

... ... ...

Gabriel stretched his arms up over his head, smiling into the mild sunlight. The air had finally begun to warm, in May, and he felt invigorated. His ankle occasionally gave him trouble even after a couple of months, but for the most part he felt great. He crouched down among the thin trees beside the house, to bring himself level with the beginnings of flowers. He saw blue irises tentatively unfurling, and a splash of white where the wild strawberries crept along the ground, with some trillium nearby. He hummed to himself, soft and content, and snagged a wide-open geranium from its cluster of friends, twirling it between his fingers. The purple petals were bright.

Gabe pulled himself back to standing using a tree trunk to steady himself, and headed toward the house. Sam lay out in the back yard, on a ragged quilt, with his eyes closed and a textbook beside him. Gabriel grinned, and made his way quietly. He slid down beside Sam. Sam flicked his leg. Not so sneaky after all. Samuel opened one eye lazily, and pulled Gabriel down to capture him in his arms. Gabriel squirmed. Then laughed. He tickled Sam's nose with the flower.

"You are a great big teddy bear, you know that?" Gabe patted Sam's shoulder. "Killin' me with cuddles."

Sam snorted. He mussed up Gabriel's hair and muttered, "You think _I'm_ a cuddler, you should see Dean. He smothers his pillows to death in his sleep." He winked. (And he'd been doing that more often lately, probably influenced by both his big brother's and Gabriel's tendency toward campy flirtation.) Gabriel rolled his eyes.

"Can't imagine what it must be like for Cas." He closed his eyes, letting himself melt a little against Sam. Sam made a noise of agreement, then curiosity.

"You think they're, yanno, together?" His hand drifted up, fingers splaying flat against Gabriel's back, rubbing calmingly. Gabriel grunted.

"No clue."

Sam nodded. He let out a pleased little sigh, as Gabe's breath grew slower. Gabriel seemed ready to nod off at any moment, so Sam stayed still and calm, and kept pressing circles into his back with his palm, letting his Archangel-turned-human doze away on top of him. Hopefully his arm wouldn't fall asleep, or anything.

... ... ...

Dean stretched his legs out from the couch, prodding Castiel—who sat on the floor with a book in his lap—with his boot. Sammy's voice sounded tinny over the phone. Dean smirked at Castiel's affronted glare. "Really? Sam, I think you're safe. Your house is a fucking fortress." He ignored Castiel's raised eyebrow and kicked him again. Castiel scowled.

"No, Dean, that's not what I'm worried about."

Dean rolled his eyes. He could practically hear his little brother's puppy eyes. "What, then? Afraid of something else?" He bit back a grunt when Cas trailed a finger up the arch of his foot, acting for all the world as if he didn't know Dean was ticklish. Dean shot him a glower. Castiel only returned that tiny, teasing smile he often wore.

"Dude. I'm not afraid of the Hunt getting to _me_. I'm afraid that they'll attack someone else. They could go after Jude again, or Maria, or Gabe while he's at the bar."

Dean sighed heavily. "Why couldn't they just stay in friggin' Sweden or wherever? Pain in the ass Hunt." From where he sat, Castiel hummed in agreement. Sam grumbled from the phone. "You sure you can't find the trail on your own?" He picked at the hem of his shirt.

"Dean, I'm sure. I wouldn't ask for your guys' help unless I really needed it."

Dean rubbed his face with one hand. "Yeah. Okay. Can you wait four hours or do I have to take Angel Air? 'Cause I'd rather drive." He mouthed _No offense, man_ at Castiel, and Cas shook his head in amusement. Sam snorted.

"You can drive."

Dean grinned. "Awesome. See you tonight." He raised an eyebrow at Cas, nodding at the side table. Castiel sighed, put-upon, and scooped up Dean's coffee mug before heading to the kitchen.

"If no one's home when you get in, there's a key under the loose brick on the bottom step."

Dean laughed. What a dork. "Sure thing, Sammy. Seeya."

"See you in a bit, Dean." And he hung up.

Dean yawned, slipping the phone back into his pocket. He reached for his coffee when Cas returned, smiling his thanks as charmingly as he knew how. Castiel huffed, but didn't seem particularly angry as he settled beside Dean on the couch. He fixed his eyes steady on Dean's face, and a few years ago Dean would have been uncomfortable with his staring but now it was as familiar as the way Sam clenched his jaw when he was irritated. Dean grinned wider. "Got all your stuff?"

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Yes, Dean. Because I own _so much_."

Dean smirked. He appreciated Cas' sarcasm. "Good boy." He ignored Castiel's grunt of indignation in favor of finding his jacket and keys.

Out the door, into the Impala's smooth interior, coaxing a purr from the engine with Castiel in the passenger seat, and pealing out of Singer Salvage with AC/DC blasting out the open windows.

Perfect.

... ... ...

Sam checked that his shoes were tightly laced before catching Gabriel's eye. "If Dean and Castiel get here while you're napping, don't _shoot_ them." He raised both of his eyebrows. Gabe laughed.

"I'm not dumb, Sambo! I won't mistake them for intruders. Promise." He smirked and gave a little two-finger salute. "Scout's honor."

Sam rolled his eyes. He kissed Gabe's cheek with a half-hug, and muttered, "Don't burn the house down."

Gabriel snorted and shooed him out the door. "I'll try. Don't fail your chem test." He gave Samuel a slap on the ass for good luck and shut the door tight behind him. Grinned wildly. What a life. Far from anything he'd ever expected when he left his brethren up in Heaven. He sighed, then clapped his hands together. "Come on, Satiné! Let's bake a pie to bribe Winchester the Eldest!" Satiné cocked her head and followed him eagerly into the kitchen with a whuffling breath against his hand.

Two hours later, a cherry pie sat completely cool and ready to eat on the kitchen table with a tiny vase of yellow pansies beside it. Two hours after that, Gabriel pulled various mismatched and brightly patterned plates from the cupboard, and by the time he was setting slices on the plate he heard the roar of Dean's Baby rolling to a stop in the driveway. He snickered to himself and scooped soft (homemade) vanilla ice cream beside the pieces of pie. (Hey, he got bored sometimes. Making ice cream and bread and everything else they needed was a great way to relax and entertain himself.)

He was at the door almost the second Dean's pounding started up, and he threw it open with a half-assed leer. "Evenin' boys." He wiped his hands on his (obnoxiously striped) apron. "You came just in time for some pie."

Dean blinked at him. "What kind?"

Gabriel shot him a broad smirk. "Cherry."

The expression on Dean's face could only be described as lustful. Gabriel burst out laughing and watched Dean stride to the kitchen with Cas in his wake. "You better not eat it all, you glutton!" Dean's reply was a muffled moan and a middle finger. Gabriel raised his eyes to the ceiling. That boy treated pie as a religious experience. He shook his head, and made his way back into the kitchen to snag his creation and shoved it into the fridge. He turned to his younger brother, who hovered behind a chair, observing Dean, awkward as always. "Cas. If you don't sit down and eat your pie I'm gonna _make_ you."

Castiel squinted at him, seemingly amused, and dropped into the chair beside Dean before he pulled his own plate toward him and took a tentative bite. He didn't need to eat of course, but Gabriel's cherry pies were, in fact, gaining a reputation—and for good reason. The filling was the perfect mix of thick and sticky and the cherries themselves were dark and firm, and the crust just barely browned at the edges, with an earthy undertone that complimented the sweetness of the fruit impressively. Castiel hummed in approval.

"It's... very good, Gabriel." He smiled—well, if you could count Cas' slight lip quirk as a smile. Dean laughed and slapped him heartily on the back.

"Dam straight, it's good. It's amazing!"

Gabriel couldn't help but glow a little at the praise, blushing just barely. Praise from Dean rarely came so easy, and he was proud to know that his food almost always passed that idiot's test. He shook his head, and pulled a cookbook down from its shelf to flick through it and decide what he wanted to make for dinner. Sam was out taking his chemistry midterm and a quiz on Russian history, and had also told Gabriel he'd be asking about major requirements and the teaching program, so Gabe honestly had no idea when he'd be home. So something that either tasted good cool or reheated well. He mumbled to himself under his breath, flicking through pages. Chances are he'd want something light, after panicking (what a neurotic man-child) over the tests he would no doubt pass with flying colors. So... maybe...

"Artichoke galette... Hm..." He gnawed at his lip, and tapped the page with his finger.

Dean scoffed. "Dude. Artichokes? Gross." He spun his fork between his fingers.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at him, having almost forgotten Cas and Dean were at the table. He reached down to pat Satiné's head. "Last time I checked, I didn't care whether or not you liked artichokes." He winked. "Don't make the chef mad or he might poison you." He straightened his apron and dove into the refrigerator to find the ingredients he would need for an artichoke galette, cucumber salad, and spiked lemonade. Dean just muttered into his pie, resigned to being forced to eat vegetables.

Sam trundled through the front door just as Gabriel was dishing out pieces of galette, and Gabe temporarily abandoned Dean and Cas to greet him with a very gentle kiss and unending "helpfulness." (He ended up getting Sam more tangled in his jacket than not.) Sam tolerated his fussing with an annoyed smile, and allowed himself to be dragged into the kitchen and hugged by his big brother. Cas nodded politely at him when he sat down with a heavy breath. Gabriel set a bowl of salad and a glass of alcoholic cherry lemonade in front of Sam, and Sam thanked him, tired.

Dean let out a grudging compliment at the galette, despite "all the vegetables and shit." Gabriel grinned smugly. Castiel tasted it, and agreed it had a pleasant taste, but didn't eat much of it—just picked at Dean's. Sam, as always, praised Gabriel's cooking as often as was physically possible—practically between every bite. Gabriel rubbed his thumb in circle's on Sam's knee under the table. Dean pretended not to notice.

"Everything go okay?" Gabriel looked over his shoulder. He rinsed a plate. Sam shrugged loosely, relaxed now that he'd eaten and bantered with Dean.

"Alright, I guess." He stood up and wandered over to press a kiss to the top of Gabe's head, ignoring Dean's exclamations of _Dude, PDA! _"Pretty sure I did great on the quiz, but the chem test..." He snaked his arms around Gabriel's waist. "Don't think I did so great." Gabriel turned around and poked Sam's nose.

"How 'bout the info on teaching?"

Sam closed his eyes, leaning against Gabriel.

"Got some pamphlets and stuff."

Gabe patted his arm. "Good." He smiled. "Now get off. I gotta show those two idiots where the Hunt was." He pushed lightly at Sam, who took a step back, acquiescent. "You go take a nap." Sam nodded, and left with a quick squeeze of Gabriel's hand. Gabriel rolled his eyes and slapped Dean on the back of the head. "Up and at 'em, boys! We're goin' hiking!"

... ... ...

Castiel crouched on the path, pressing a finger against the loose mixture of gravel and dirt and decaying cedar bark. He looked up through the canopy, at the clear dark sky. "I certainly feel _something_. Odin has left traces of his presence and they resonate in the earth." He turned a passive blue eye to the growing shadows. "He must be a powerful creature, to leave such a lasting trail. You should have asked me to track him the day you were chased." Castiel's voice grew reproachful.

Gabriel scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, sorry about that. I was a bit hopped up on Vicodin."

Castiel nodded, as if that were only to be expected. "Next time..."

Dean piped in with, "Wait, Odin? Like the god?" He raised his eyebrows.

Gabriel laughed, and Cas seemed amused as well. "No, Deano." Gabe rubbed his thigh absently. "It's kind of this... demon... who has a similar name. Not actually Odin. Trust me, I would know." A wink. Dean blinked at him.

"O... _kaaaay_..." Dean ruffled his hair, as he did when thoughtful. "So we got any idea where he mighta gone?" He focused on Castiel. Castiel remained silent for several long moments, until he finally straightened up and nodded, curt.

"Dean. Please, follow me." Cas then turned to Gabriel. "You, go back home. Your vessel is unfit for any extensive physical activities, and the hike alone would exhaust you needlessly." He stalked off into the woods. Dean followed closely. Gabriel rolled his eyes with a mutter, and made his way back to the Nova.

... ... ...

"C'mere, toots."

Sam raised his eyebrows at Gabe. "Are you just trying to use as many ridiculous nicknames as you can?" He folded down the corner of his page, and set the heavy chemistry text book aside. Gabriel took that as an invitation and slithered his way into Samuel's lap.

"Maybe. Maybe not." He leaned in close and dragged his teeth lightly along Sam's collarbone. "Cherub. Angelface. Honeybunch." He grinned, and mouthed at Sam's jaw. Sam sighed, impatient—moved to slot their mouths together with an exasperated noise. Gabriel's breath stuttered in response and his fingers fluttered just barely away from Sam's shoulders before finally settling down and pressing against the maroon flannel of Sam's shirt. Sam smiled, and bit Gabe's lower lip—not too hard, but not particularly gentle, either—and trailed one hand up Gabriel's back and neck to grab a handful of his hair, and to tug just a bit. His other hand rested firmly on Gabriel's waist. fingertips pressing almost firm enough to bruise but not quite..

Gabe whined into Sam's mouth. "Like it when you get all forceful, Kiddo." He squirmed.

Sam kissed his way down Gabriel's jawline, and nipped at his neck, tightening his grip. Gabriel gasped. Tilted his chin up to expose more of his throat for Sam to bite and tongue. Curled his toes with a pleased hum. Sam growled, and Gabriel closed his eyes.

"You _animal_." He tugged Sam's shirt collar.

Sam chuckled—deep and feral, the kind of laugh never heard outside of the house. "You love it." His voice dropped low. Gabriel snorted, and pulled at one of Sam's hands so he could press his lips against Sam's knuckles.

"Damn straight."

Their mouths met, once more.

... ... ...

_**You are my sunshine... My only sunshine...**_

_Gabriel looked around at the narrow trees surrounding him, letting his voice his out quiet and loose._

_**You make me happy... when skies are gray...**_

_His eyelids fluttered shut, briefly, then he turned his gaze up._

_**You never know Dear, how much I love you...**_

_He reached for his sword, and it slid into place in his palm._

_**Until you take...**_

_The crunch of bone fracturing around the blade before it gave way to soft flesh filled his ears. _

_The heart._

_**My sunshine...**_

_White light erupted all around and the monster howled._

_**Away...**_

Gabriel sat up with a jolt. He took several deep, steadying breaths before pushing at the covers. The beginnings of light barely streamed through the window. Sam lay still, asleep, calm and reassuring. In the living room, Gabriel heard what had presumably woken him—Dean's muffled laughter, and Cas' low voice, as the TV murmured underneath. It was 5 am.

Gabriel rubbed his eyes, and stooped down to retrieve his boxers and a shirt from the floor, slipping into them before padding through the hallway and the kitchen to the living room. He stopped in the doorway. Watched Castiel scold Dean softly. Then, "How'd it go, Nancy Drew? Harriet?" He raised an eyebrow, and feigned nonchalance as best he could though his heart rate remained a little bit elevated. (What a strange, nostalgic dream. Not a nightmare. Not happy. But it made him ache.)

Dean nearly hit his leg on the coffee table in his surprise. Cas merely blinked. "Gabriel, I don't think either of us is a young, female detective."

Gabe snorted. Shook his head. "Yeah, well. Whatever." He pulled his arms around himself, as if to hold in his tiredness and insecurities. "I don't really care anyway. Sam's the one who wants the Hunt gone." He padded over to the empty fireplace and toed at the grate. Cold. They hadn't lit it in a few weeks at least, now that spring had begun to warm everything over. He closed his eyes, and stood there.

Behind him, fabric rustled. Dean spoke up. "We followed the trail, but it cut off at the edge of that big lake." The sound of Dean's fingers drumming against the couch felt too loud. Gabriel snorted.

"Could you be more specific? Minnesota's known as the 'Land of 10,000 Lakes' for a reason." He turned around to face them, with the light of sunrise dropping pink and secretive through the big front window and painting his left side bright while his right side soaked itself in shadows. He raised his eyebrows. Dean rolled his eyes.

Castiel approached Gabriel, with his hand outstretched. "Byllesby." He looked uncertain, but then rested his hand on Gabe's upper arm. He leaned close, and so Dean couldn't hear from the couch, murmured, "What's troubling you, Gabriel?"

Gabriel shook his head. "Dreams. Just life, Brother." He reached up to lace his fingers through Castiel's. Cas' were cold.

Castiel nodded, but still seemed worried. He returned to Dean's side, hovering at the edge of the couch before finally settling into the cushions stiffly, to watch infomercials and early morning re-runs and whatever else they could find on the flat screen.

Gabriel wandered over to join them, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep.

Dean eyed Gabe's neck wordlessly, now that he could see him clearer. Pulled a face like he wanted to say something inappropriate about the hickeys and bite marks but thought better of it and just slung his arm around Cas' shoulders and made a joke about the commercial playing.

Gabriel huffed half a laugh under his breath and licked his lips. He tasted blood. Maybe they'd gotten too rowdy... But then again... _Nah_. Good thing Dean and Castiel had been out so late, in that case, because Gabriel really doubted the older Winchester would have appreciated coming home to find Sam and Gabriel going at it like rabbits in the goddamn armchair, of all places. Gabriel smirked. It would have been amusing. He could only imagine how hilarious Dean's horrified face would be.

He settled back against the cushions, as a re-run of _Buffy_ came on, and smiled.

... ... ...

"So the trail just went cold?" Sam took a too-large bite of his waffle, and smeared syrup on his nose. Gabriel rolled his eyes and reached over to wipe it off with a brush of his thumb and got a dopey grin in return. He licked his thumb clean.

Dean made a disgusted noise, and mumbled around a mouthful of bacon, "Yeah. Straight into the damn lake." He shoveled a forkful of eggs into his face with a pleased grunt. Looked up. Shrugged.

Sam frowned. "Huh." He sipped his protein shake, (And Gabriel had no idea how the man could eat three Belgian waffles, half a plate of potatoes, 7 slices of bacon and a protein shake in one sitting. Must be the early morning jogs.) Satiné whined from her place on his feet, and he dropped a little chunk of bacon for her to snap up. "Maybe Odin lives in the lake. I can do some research between classes, at the school's library." He scraped the last of his potatoes into his mouth.

"You do that, Sammy. Me and Cas'll go back and scope it out in daylight." Dean downed a gulp of black coffee. Gabriel grimaced.

"I'll just stay here and take a nap with my dog, then." Gabe flashed his teeth in a feral grin. He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel left out.

Sam chuckled and patted his shoulder. He leaned across to give him a sticky kiss to the cheek before taking his plate to the sink, and said, "Dude, why don't you go see a movie or something? Gatsby came out like four days ago. I know you like Luhrmann's flicks." He rinsed his plate thoroughly, and stuck it in the dishwasher.

Gabe groaned, burying his face in his arms. His voice came out muffled and sulky. "You promised we could go together. Movie theaters _suck_ when I'm alone." He wiggled his toes in his socks, willfully ignoring Dean's snort of derision but "accidentally" kicking him in the ankle. Dean flicked his elbow with a grumbled insult.

"You big baby."

Gabriel felt Sam come closer. The larger man leaned down and wrapped his arms around Gabriel, humming something unidentifiable. He pressed a kiss into Gabe's hair. (Sam had been feeling very affectionate the past few weeks. Maybe it was because of spring.) Gabe heard Dean's chair scrape back and a mutter of _Don't need any damn PDA_ accompanied by retreating footsteps and the rustle of Castiel's wings. Gabriel reached his arms up to run his fingers through Samuel's hair and tilted his chin so Sam's lips brushed his temple.

"I guess I can deal with naps." Gabe sighed. "Better than following those two morons around a lake." He quirked an eyebrow, eyes still shut.

Sam nipped his ear and was gone the next moment, probably retrieving his schoolbag from the bedroom. Gabriel let his forehead thud lightly against the tabletop. He really was tired. Honestly, a nap with Satiné curled up against the crook of his knees sounded wonderful. He hauled himself to his feet, abandoned his plate at the table, and wobbled into the master bedroom. As he figured, Sam was rummaging around and gathering his stuff. Gabriel grinned sleepily, and threw himself into their bed, thankful he hadn't bothered to get dressed in earnest. He was unconscious before Sam left the room.

... ... ...

The sun shone exceptionally bright.

"You know, in some places the Wild Hunt is referred to as 'Gabriel's Hounds.'"

"Freakin' serious? That's just ironic."

"It is rumored, in certain Scandinavian countries, that Odin was a nobleman who died and was cursed to hunt down supernatural beings. In other stories he is the god himself on his eight-legged steed, and in others, the black god of the Hunt. In some, he is a king."

"Cas, I don't really need a breakdown of every damn rumor in Europe, okay?"

"My apologies. I was only trying to help."

"Well stop helping."

"Sorry."

Castiel frowned at Dean, shucking his overcoat and laying it atop the hood of the Impala. He fell silent while he followed Dean down the dock. He felt brief flashes of the tracks Odin (or whoever he may be) and his hunt left behind. Cas sat on the edge of the wooden boards, and slipped his shoes and socks off before setting them beside him, and slid into the still water of the lake before Dean had the chance to stop him. He heard muffled swearing through the lake water.

Above, Dean grumbled to himself and watched Castiel sink into the shadows. "Maniac." He crossed his arms, and settled down to wait.

Below, Castiel scanned his surroundings, and dug his toes into the bed of the lake to better feel the tracks of anything that had passed. The sensation of life and movement and death pulsed through his feet, and under it all a vaguely horrifying ache that could only be the Hunt. It made his teeth sore.

Above, the sky remained empty. The sun reached out to everything. Dean put his hand down on the hood of the Impala, once, and lifted it away with an immediate hiss. The metal grew warmer still, and he shielded his eyes.

Below, a black glow striped up from an indentation in the sand. Castiel floated to his knees, and the buzzing through Jimmy's skeleton increased. Cas buried his hands in the streaming darkness up to the elbows and wrapped his fingers around something cold and smooth, and flexed his Grace before taking flight.

Dean jumped at Cas' sudden appearance onshore. Cas cradled a skull in his arms—slick black with twisting horns, and the size of one of Baby's tires. Dean gaped and raised his eyebrows. He popped the trunk, and Cas bundled the skull in amongst the concealed weapons and bags of salt and sigils—a new one, pagan, to bind anything dangerous inside and push away peril from the outside. Pagans had always been big on protection.

They drove back fast, uneasy.

Gabriel opened the front door almost the second the Impala's wheels touched the driveway. He looked at them, expectant. Castiel pulled Odin's skull into his arms and disappeared, to reappear in the living room where Gabriel had demarcated a large, intricate design Dean could only guess the meaning of. Something from the days of being Loki. Sharp and powerful and ancient, and he doubted that any scholar alive today would understand what was burnt into the floorboards. (They'd have to repaint the floor when all this was over.)

"Sam'll be home in a few minutes. He just called." Gabriel rubbed at the knuckle of his right thumb, and Dean thought he seemed uneasy.

Castiel nodded. "We'll wait, then." He placed the horned skull in the center of the eight-pointed star and circle combination.

One hundred forty seconds later, the red truck pulled to a stop by the edge of the road, and Sam Winchester bounded in with a small plastic bag, labeled only "Welcome to the New Age." He pulled out a few boxes of incense—the closest he could get to certain herbs for burning—and a piece of polished obsidian and a sprig of juniper and an ivy leaf. He handed them to Gabriel. Gabriel thanked him. The juniper was separated out to each point of the star. Four cones of incense went on saucers in between. The obsidian rested on the ivy leaf rested on the skull.

"Gabriel—can you still do this kind of stuff? I mean..." Sam ran his hands up through his hair with a breath. "Obviously you know how, but without your powers... Is this _safe_?" He shifted on his feet. His expression said_ I'm worried _and _Please be careful._

Dean nodded in agreement, and Castiel leveled that intense gaze of his on Gabe.

Gabriel turned his eyes to the ceiling, like he could see straight through it into Heaven if he wanted.

"About as safe as summoning a demon. Which you've both done _more_ than once."

Sam shook his head. "But we're trained."

"And I know at least three times as many binding spells and sigils as you, in at least as many languages." Gabriel smiled.

Sam relented.

Gabriel took off his shirt and lit the incense.

Gabe picked up his knife—the angelic sword forged in Heaven with the ability to destroy anything short of God himself. He flapped his hand, and Sam took a step back, pulling his brother with him by the arm. They watched Gabriel kneel in the center of his design, toes pointed toward the north along with one point of the star that made up the outside of the sigil. Gabriel closed his eyes, and pointed his knife in each direction. He held the hilt to his mouth, and began to whisper. Old Norse, if Sam had to guess. The only word he recognized was "Wodan." Gabriel pulled the blade along his palm, eyebrows pulling together but words not faltering even a bit. The other palm. Blood pattered to the floor. (Yeah, they were definitely going to repaint it.)

He smeared a streak of red from his belly button to his throat, added some swirling lines across his chest. Sam had no idea what it could be. It obscured the heart and wings on his ribcage, the sigil on his neck. Castiel looked pensive. Gabriel took up his sword again, and shoved it between two floorboards—reluctant to actually damage the wood. He wrapped his hands (palms now slick with scarlet) around the horns of the skull, leaned his forehead against its forehead, and murmured continuously under his breath.

The lights went out.

Gabriel hissed loudly, pulling his hands back from the violently glowing skull—brighter and brighter. There was a rush of red light and black shade and the Rider stood before them in the center of the sigil, swathed in white. Dean backed away slightly. Castiel held his ground. Samuel Winchester took a step forward, and gripped Gabriel under the armpits to help him scramble away from the god of the Hunt. Gabriel leaned into him. His knees felt weak. From blood loss, most likely, though the bleeding had actually stopped the moment Odin's skull had seared with light.

The god surveyed them with red eyes—redder than any demon's—from behind the sockets of the skull he wore as a mask. He raised a wan hand. Thick words poured from him, and Sam did not recognize the language.

Gabriel laughed breathlessly. Panicky. He responded in the same language, and it sounded so alien on his tongue. Sam's skin crawled. Odin stared at them for three solid minutes. Finally, he spoke again.

"Loki. I did not recognize you in your depleted form."

Sam raised his eyebrows. Gabriel smiled up at him.

"I don't blame you." Gabe gripped Sam's hand. "I've fallen pretty low from what I used to be." He paused. "What are you doing here, Odin?" (And why did he have to know _two_ gods named Odin?!)

The god of the Hunt blinked languorously. "Hunting." He glanced down at his pale palm, and plucked at his white shrouds. His nails glinted long and red. "With what else would I occupy my time?"

Gabriel snorted. "I mean, aren't you supposed to be in Sweden or something? And since when did you start targeting children under 16?" He crossed his arms. "Didn't we always agree kids were off limits?"

If it were possible for a skull to look embarrassed, Sam would have described Odin as such. Odin nodded thoughtfully. "You are correct. A mistake on my part." He gestured toward the room at large. "Are these men your followers?"

Dean guffawed from where he stood by the couch, and Castiel shushed him with a stern expression. Gabriel's smile was bitter and amused. He smirked at Odin. "No. Just... friends."

Odin fell into a shocked and still silence.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Look, can we just get this over with?" He swayed, and gripped at Sam to keep his balance.

The god nodded brusquely. "Yes. Why did you summon me?"

"We want you to get out of the country, okay? Leave." Gabriel's command seemed... not entirely empty, but a bit hollow.

Odin hummed—and there was that familiar vibration Castiel had felt in his vessel's bones. Raw power. "And if I choose to stay?"

"We'll kill you."

Odin laughed.

Gabriel shot him a tight grin. "Don't underestimate the Winchesters, honey." He squeezed Sam's hand.

Odin froze once more. "Oh. I see. Heaven's Righteous Man and Abomination."

Sam stiffened imperceptibly at Gabriel's side, and his hand in Gabe's constricted enough to bruise.

"In that case, I believe I will take my leave to Europe for a long while."

Gabriel nodded. "That's what I thought." He stepped forward, wobbling on unsteady feet. The scent of thick incense was really not helping his dizziness. He dropped to his knees, and licked his palm to moisten some of the mostly dried blood and take it up onto his fingertips. He took a deep breath of the smoke around him. His eyes fluttered shut. He rubbed a line of blood to wipe out the soot marking out his octagram. Odin disappeared in a rush of sound like lapping water and the lights buzzed back on.

Gabriel pressed his forehead into the wood floor.

"And now we pray."

His eyes slid shut.

... ... ...

"Come on man, why couldn't we just gank the son of a bitch?" Dean's voice felt far away.

Sam's voice felt much nearer and his response was clear and concise—"Because he's a _god_, Dean."

"So?" Of course Dean would argue that point.

Castiel's voice cut in gravelly and hard to hear. "Dean. You saw how much energy the summoning _alone_ drained from Gabriel." There was a long pause. "Killing Odin would have been suicidal. The summoner is the only one who would be able to initiate the death of Odin."

"So why didn't he just use his Archangel knife and get all stabby?" What an asshole.

Sam's exasperated groan. So familiar. "Dean. He could barely _stand_. I had to hold him up."

Gabriel reached out to take Sam's hand. Bandages rubbed between their palms. His head pounded. "Even with my blade..." His voice wobbled, and that embarrassed him. Humans were so... easy to break. "Even with that, he woulda been real hard to kill, Deano."

Dean grumbled, but sounded resigned to grudging agreement.

Gabe cracked his eyes open. No lights. Thank God. His headache was splitting his skull. "I may have been a god once, and a weapon, but not anymore." He gave Dean a light kick. Satiné shifted at his feet. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah." He stood, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "Still wish we could've killed him."

Castiel shot him a stern look, and steered him from the room by his elbow. Sam chuckled under his breath at his brother's stubbornness, and leaned forward to brush his lips against Gabe's knuckles. "Feel okay?"

Gabriel shook his head. "I'll be fine in a day or so." He reached up to spread his hand flat on the base of Sam's skull and pulled him in for a kiss. "S'long as I have you to nurse me back to health." He winked, and it was weak but saucy. Sam puffed a little laugh into his mouth. He rolled over Gabriel, and settled at his side, pulling him into his arms.

"You ever do something like that again and I'll handcuff you to the washing machine."

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. "Kinky."

Sam grinned. (Gabriel wanted to kiss his dimples.)

... ... ...

That night, Castiel followed Odin's trail—alone this time—and returned fairly quickly to confirm that the god had, indeed, headed towards Scandinavia.

He and Dean returned to Sioux Falls in the morning, having gotten wind of a nest of vamps in Wyoming.

Gabe was up and about in a matter of hours, after Sam fed him half a carton of orange juice, mashed potatoes, and a bowl of chocolate ice cream.

His hands, though cauterized, were not fully healed. Mild burns laced his palms, and it hurt to close his hands enough to hold almost anything. He used his ice cream bowl to soothe the heat throbbing across his skin. Sam tended to him as well as any doctor—maybe better because of their shared affection.

"Shouldn't you be at class, young man?" Gabriel sent a skeezy grin in Sam's direction.

Sam snorted. "Figured you were more important than the periodic table." He sank into bed beside Gabe, and handed him his glass of ginger ale. (Hey, it's good for you.)

Gabriel sipped with a thoughtful hum. "Flattering."

Sam swatted his shoulder.

... ... ...

_There was that song again. Gabriel looked around at the clearing he stood in—short clipped grass, brighter green than a glass bottle, yellow poppies sprinkled about even though poppies didn't bloom 'til summertime, high blue sky, air completely still. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..." Gabriel realized that the voice belonged to him. He looked down at himself. Covered in intricate indigo tattoos, in a similar style to the Life Tree on his lower back. Nude. "You make me happy when skies are gray..." He wandered to the center of the little meadow. A tiny bonfire burned with bluish flames. "You never know, Dear, how much I love you..." He sank to his haunches in front of the fire. "Until you take my sunshine away..."_

_The sun went out._

_His surroundings changed faster than the blink of his eyes, as if the meadow had never existed in the first place._

_The bonfire roared and rumbled huge in front of him—more of a funeral pyre than a campfire—and the ground was smooth and white like bone, while the sky was the jet black of a demon's eyes and absorbed the sparks like water taking in dust._

_Gabriel's heart raced and pounded. His head throbbed. Brackish blood oozed from the slashes on his palms and from his nose and ears and mouth and eyes and the dotwork of the tattoos on his stinging skin._

_He screamed._

"**GABRIEL**!"

Gabriel scrambled out of the bed, crashing to the floor with a rough shout and ignoring the searing burn that laced through his palms when he pushed himself up on his hands. He took a massive breath and let it out slow, sinking down to his stomach on the cold wood boards. His knee complained at having been knocked against the bedframe.

Sam gripped him tight and pulled him into an embrace, and muttered meaningless things into his ear.

"I don't think the dream meds work anymore." Gabriel laughed, high and reedy and breathless.

Samuel let out a shaky sigh. "Yeah, I think you're right." He enveloped Gabriel with his whole body, rocked him gently back and forth. Gabriel nuzzled against his neck. Filled his lungs with the calming, familiar smell of Sam—warm and springy and heady. He loosened his hands from Sam's shirt. He hadn't even noticed himself clutching so tight, but now his fingers creaked and his palm stung in protest. He focused on breathing.

Eventually, "What did you dream about?"

Gabriel glanced up and forced a slight smile. "If I tell you, you have to take me to see _The Great Gatsby _on Sunday. Like a real date." He winked, but it was half-hearted. Sam mumbled something about him being spoiled into his temple.

But... "Fine. This Sunday. It's a date." He made a strict face. "Tell me. I want to help."

Gabe gnawed on his lip—and damn that habit was going to prevent his lips from ever being smooth again, wasn't it—and raised himself out of Sam's arms to sit on the edge of the bed. He patted the covers, and Sam sat beside him. Satiné perked her ears up, reassured that there would be no more panic, and lay across their feet, her one good eye trained on Gabriel's face.

He explained what he had dreamt to Sam, and then told him of the dream he had when Dean and Cas had been over, and how that song had begun to proliferate throughout his dreams like some kind of anthem to his life and how he got it stuck in his head at work even while Christina Aguilera wailed over the speakers.

Sam brooded for a long time, his chin in one hand and the other wrapped around Gabriel's waist and rubbing circles into the skin at his hip just over his waistband. His eyes collected the low sunlight from the window and it seemed like that odd burst of brown around his pupils sparkled much brighter than usual. Gabriel stared at Sam while Sam stared at the rug beside the bed. Satiné watched them both.

Eventually Samuel grunted, and fell back against the sheets with a loud huff. "I guess we should talk to the doctor about why the meds aren't working." He rubbed his eyes.

Gabe grimaced, letting out a petulant puff of air. He rolled onto Sam. Purposefully jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow. He frowned down at him. "Screw the doctor, Sammy. I don't want _medicine_."

Sam glared. "Dammit Gabe, why are you so set against these fucking pills? All I have to do is _mention_ them and you get all up in arms and start bitching about how much you don't need them. Even though you _do_." And this was the threatening Samuel Winchester, full-force, ready to lose his temper and absolutely terrifying in his stillness. He grit his jaw. Gabriel froze, breathing shallow—almost holding his breath. Sam's eyes locked on his.

"I just..." The words came out small and strangled. Gabriel gulped down a little breath and broke eye contact, rolling off of Sam to face the headboard. He closed his eyes, stiffened his shoulders and back, curled his toes against the coverlet, and whispered, "I don't want to be weak."

Sam's hand closed around Gabriel's shoulder, and Gabriel flinched, half expecting to be hit even though he knew Sam would never hit him. Not since he'd been human.

He found himself wrapped in strong, warm, familiar arms. Comforting. And of course Sam hugged him. Sam, the ultimate empathetic soul. Always trying to help people. He didn't say anything, so neither did Gabe. Gabriel reached one hand up to fasten loose around Sam's wrist, feeling the steady tick of his pulse under his thumb, letting himself relax against Sam. "Shit." His voice cracked.

Sam's arms tightened.

Gabriel could feel Sam's heartbeat against his shoulders. Around the spot his wings used to be. His throat constricted hot and sore. "Sorry. I'm sorry..." He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

"Did you ever let yourself cry?" And the part of the question left unspoken was _After your Grace bled out?_ Sam's voice fell soft on Gabriel's ears. And Gabriel shook his head.

Gabriel swallowed thick, like gulping down tiny seeds of glass and volcanic ash. "Nope." He knew that Sam knew the answer before asking—knew that Sam had never seen Gabriel cry. Because Gabriel hadn't cried in years. He'd screamed and lashed out, sure, when he'd first been reduced to something less than powerful. Cursed his Father and cursed the gods for punishing his one act of kindness by removing all angelic strength he possessed.

But never cried.

Now, he cried, rolling to bury his face against Sam Winchester's collar and throat, threading his hands through worn flannel and letting himself choke out tiny gasping whimpers.

Sam's hand moved in circles on Gabriel's back.

... ... ...

"You look exhausted."

Gabe tilted his head. He slid a pomegranate martini to Persephone, who smiled charmingly. Her makeup today tended towards glittery and warm—her lipstick the color of copper and her eye shadow a soft, buttery color. She leaned closer, raising her perfect eyebrows. Gabriel slumped, with a sigh.

"Bad dreams."

Persephone nodded. Sipped her drink. She perked up. "Oh by the way. I think I saw your uh... Sam? Tall, dimples, built like a brick shithouse with God-like hair?" She smirked.

Gabriel coughed out a brief, somewhat surprised laugh. "Sounds about right." He pushed a hand through his hair.

"Wonderful." Persephone grinned. "Because he's supposed to be here in about ten minutes."

Gabriel's phone buzzed in his pocket almost before the last words left Persephone's mouth. Gabe eyed her, then slid his phone open. Lo and behold, a text from Sam Winchester reading _Hey, Gabe. I'm gonna be dropping by for a bit if that's okay? Friend from class invited me out._ Gabriel tapped out a quick reply in the affirmative, then stared at Persephone for a few silent seconds before slipping his phone back into his pocket. "Did you, now?" He raised an eyebrow. Shook his head with a disbelieving smirk.

Ten minutes later, just as she'd said, Sam came striding through the front door and _damn_... Gabriel floundered for words as his cohabiter slunk into a bar stool beside Persephone. Eventually, "Sweet _Lord_ Sammy, why don't you dress like that more often?" He made a point to give him a long sweep up and down, admiring.

Sam blushed. "I just never really thought about it. Figured you didn't care either way, anyhow." He scratched the back of his head, making his short sleeves pull just right around his shoulders and pulling his black v-neck up to reveal a little bit of skin—if Gabriel leaned over the bar he could just see his hip. From what he had glanced when Sam walked in, the oversized man-child was wearing his nicest, most flattering pair of jeans and a slick pair of dark brown boots. He was all dark and smoky, tonight. The brown corduroy jacket just pulled it all together perfectly, even though Sam had it slung over his arm instead of actually wearing it.

Gabriel just nodded mutely. He raised one hand up, shook his head, and turned his back to them—Persephone giggled. "Whaddya wanna drink, then?" He placed his hands on his hips. "Salty dog?" He threw a glance over his shoulder. Sam fidgeted, then nodded.

"Why not?" Sam sent him a broad grin.

Gabriel snorted, and set to work with his gin and grapefruit juice.

As Gabriel set the drink down on the bar top, Sam flapped his hand and said, "Hey, c'mere."

Gabriel obliged.

Sam clasped one hand around the back of Gabe's neck and pulled him close for a brief little kiss. "Haven't seen you all day, feels like." He flicked his eyes away, suddenly embarrassed—probably because public displays of affection other than the occasional hand-holding were extremely rare for them—and smiled. Persephone laughed at them both, batting her eyelashes.

"You two are _adorable_." She rested her chin on her hands. Scrutinized them for a while. "How long've you been together?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Pers." He snatched her empty glass away to make her another martini, and Sam told her,

"Um... technically about two or three years...?" He shifted uncomfortably and Gabriel snickered, and slid Persephone her martini.

He cut in. "We met about five or six years back, I think, then didn't run into each other for a while. In 2009 we saved each other from dying horribly, and became pretty good friends when this big ol' softie nursed me back to health." He waggled his eyebrows. "Started screwing each other less than a year later."

Sam widened his eyes, red-cheeked. "_Gabe_!" He made that sweetly offended face—the half-grin, half-smirk, all doe-eyed disbelief.

"What?" Gabriel spread his hands out, palms up. "It's true."

Sam shook his head, and took a sip of his drink.

Gabriel pecked his temple and moved on to help some other patrons.

... ... ...

Sam sank softly into the sheets beside Gabe, careful not to jostle him. He kept his voice low—almost a whisper. "You okay...?" He pressed his palm flat against Gabriel's upper back, between his shoulder blades, feeling the ridges of Gabriel's tattoos against his fingertips.

Gabriel moved his head in the negative, and made a pained sound. He kept his face buried in his arms, propped on his pillow.

Sam breathed out a soft consoling stream of words. He moved his hand up and down, back and forth over Gabriel's bare back—bare because that day was a hot day and the fan had broken. Gabriel relaxed into the movement. He mumbled something unintelligible into his pillow. Tilted his chin up enough to free his lips and repeated, "Feels like my skull's gonna explode." He stuck his face back into the soft golden fabric.

Sam cracked an empathetic half-smile. He leaned closer, then flopped to his side and wrapped his arms around Gabriel. "Need an ibuprofen?" He nuzzled his mouth against the top of Gabriel's head.

Gabriel shook his head, then whined breathy and quiet. He pressed into Sam's arms. Sam squeezed, reassuring.

Gabriel had woken less than twenty minutes earlier (6 am) in a cold sweat with a violent migraine. The cold sweat had quickly given way to a sharp rise in his body temperature and now he lay in only his boxers on top of the comforter, sprawled on his belly with Sam wrapped around him. He had been dreaming before he woke, but all he remembered was that stupid song and flashes of blinding fire and searing, oversaturated colors. The word "love" echoed in his brain and seemed to punctuate each stab of his headache.

He had, in fact, taken an ibuprofen at Sam's insistence, almost immediately. But he felt no affects. The headache raged on.

Gabriel turned onto his side with a twisted grimace and a tiny moan. He burrowed even closer into Sam's arms. Pressed his face against Sam's throat. Mouthed at his pulse distractedly. Something about the heat of Sam's body felt different from the heat of Gabriel's fever and the heat of late May. It soothed Gabriel, just a bit.

"My mouth tastes like pomegranates and dandelion milk." His voice came out as a raspy grumble.

Sam snorted, and squeezed him. "Like a bad hangover, hm?" He received no reply other than a roll of Gabriel's eyes—Gabriel had been very careful with his alcohol intake from the second he entertained the notion of drinking it as a human, and had tempered any booze with equal swigs of water and meticulous self-monitoring. The moment he began to giggle was the moment he always stopped. As such he'd never had more than a very mild hangover.

"Maybe I have a brain tumor."

Sam's entire body tensed faster than Gabe realized was humanly possible, and the taller man hissed, "Don't even _joke_ about something like that, Gabriel." Immediately, Gabriel felt ashamed, watching as Sam slowly unclenched his jaw. He leaned up, willing his migraine to just leave, and pressed a quick kiss to Sam's cheek in a silent apology. He didn't want Sam to worry about him, after all, and the fact that he no longer held any Grace meant that really, tumors weren't as unlikely as they would have been.

"It's just a headache, I promise. Cancer isn't that common, Snickerdoodle." He reached a hand up to push Sam's bangs out of his face. Samuel puffed out a laugh.

"Snickerdoodle? Really?"

Gabriel shrugged, winced a bit at the pang in the back of his head. "Just tryin' it out." He shoved gently at Sam's shoulder until he rolled onto his back, then pulled himself up to sprawl across Sam's torso, with their legs tangled, and his cheek pressed into Sam's chest. Listening to the steady thrum of Sam's heartbeat made it easier for Gabriel to ignore the thudding at his temples.

Sam breathed soothing and gusty. His voice softened. "Kinda like it... but maybe only sometimes." He chuckled and Gabriel felt it rumble through him. "'S sweet but a little embarrassing."

Gabriel tilted his head and waggled his eyebrows. "Baby, you know I _live_ to embarrass you." He trailed his index finger up Sam's t-shirt, with a leer. Sam rolled his eyes, but he grinned.

"Yeah, okay, _Pumpkin_."

Gabriel blushed.

... ... ...

"Oh _SHIT_!" Maria grit her teeth, hand spread wide in shock as she stared at the kitchen tiling. Three chunks of what once was a plate lay on the floor. She closed her eyes, and pursed her lips, and turned to face Gabriel. "I am... so sorry..." She pressed her hands together over her mouth, not meeting his eyes.

Gabe shrugged, startled but not angry. He grabbed the broom and dustpan from their spot beside the refrigerator and said, "Don't worry about it, Maria. It was a cheap plate, anyway." He shot her a dazzling smile—and it went all the way to his eyes.

Maria melted back against the counter. She rubbed at her forehead, relieved that she hadn't pissed him off.

He swept away the little slivers that had burst off from the plate's shards, and she recovered a normal heart rate.

As he dumped the glass into the trashcan, Gabriel winced with a quiet hiss, and pressed his fingers against a spot just above his ear. Maria frowned. "Gabriel, are you okay?"

Gabriel grinned over his shoulder. "Peachy keen! Just a migraine." He bit his lip and shrugged, and sauntered back toward the fridge. He dug around for a bit. Eventually he pulled out a few wilty vegetables with a distasteful frown, and skipped to the front door—open to the spring air and the yard where Sam sat digging up weeds with Jude—and leaned out to holler, "Hey Hot Stuff! You wanna take me to the grocery store?"

Sam Winchester looked up from his handful of dandelions. He smiled, all dimples and sunshine. "Dude, did you forget how to drive or something?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Aww c'mon Big Daddy." A wink.

Sam scoffed. "Don't call me that. And fine, but I can only drop you off." He stood up, and dusted the dirt from his hands. Rolling his shoulders, he stretched. "I'm meeting Persephone so she can help me with Chem, so you're gonna have to walk home." He smiled. "Unless you feel confident enough to let someone pick you up."

Gabe blanched. He held up his hands with a surrendered expression. "No way. I'm not letting anyone drive me around in their death trap!" He ran his fingers through his hair, sticking his other hand in his back pocket. Sam shook his head, and popped inside for a brief moment—taking Jude with him to wash up—so he could tell Maria they were leaving. She nodded, and offered to make dinner for them but Sam told her _No, thank you though_, and they all left at the same time.

... ... ...

_Don't let her molest you_

Gabriel sent the text with a flourish. He leafed through the kale thoughtfully, and after speculating for a few seconds, grabbed that, and proceeded to fill a bag with mushrooms. He bided his time, prodding vegetables, holding peaches to his nose to check the ripeness, knocking lightly with his knuckles against the rind of a cantaloupe. His phone buzzed.

_Ha ha_.

Gabriel smiled. Sent,_ ;) have un studying_ Didn't catch the typo until too late. He sauntered through the aisles. A fairly large bottle of white rum caught his eye—and that was just about the only good thing that came from letting grocery stores carry booze, in his opinion—and he decided, since he had a cantaloupe already, that cantaloupe cups were in order for the night. He snagged it on his way to the frozen aisle, as Sam texted him,

_I'll try. __u_

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Sap." Nonetheless, he shot a quick reply of _OK_ and slid his phone back into his pocket with a hum.

... ... ...

Sam snorted at his phone. Who said "OK" in response to what basically amounted to "I love you"? He had a suspicion that Gabriel was worse at talking about feelings than Dean. Why did all of his friends and family members lack the capacity to admit they had emotions? Sam sighed. He tossed his phone onto the coffee table and settled back into the red and white floral couch, pulling his chemistry textbook toward him. Persephone leapt over the back of her couch and landed beside him with a grunt and a bowl full of wax beans.

"What's up? You look annoyed." She crunched on a few yellowy beans, and elbowed him, curious.

Sam pulled a face and shrugged. "Nothin'." He stole one of her beans, smirking. "Family's just emotionally constipated."

Persephone snorted. "I feel your pain. Blood family, or Gabriel?" She propped her feet up on the coffee table, pushing aside her textbook with a toe, raising her eyebrow. Sam sagged against the couch.

"Gabriel. Well—both, but in this case, Gabe."

Persephone laughed. Sam shoved her with his shoulder, but grinned. She ruffled his hair and asked, "What'd he do?"

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, a little uncomfortable at discussing possible relationship issues with a classmate, even if she was befriending both him and Gabe. "It's just..." He tapped his foot against the ground. "Okay, I care about him, you know? And I know he cares about me, but when it comes to like... admitting it... he never does. I mean... I just wish he was comfortable enough around me to say he loves me, but he still doesn't do it." He paused, rubbing the backs of his fingers. He continued before Persephone responded. "And I _get_ that, I do. I really do. It just makes me feel kinda like I still make him uneasy, or something." He let out a quiet laugh. "Like he doesn't trust me." He pressed his face into his hands with a grumble, resting his elbows on his knees. "Sorry. 'S stupid."

Persephone gave him a soft, careful look. She reached out and rested her hand on his shoulder. "Hey now, Sam. It's not stupid to feel a little insecure." She leaned in close, tugging at his hands 'til he looked her in the eyes—silvery-gray locked on blue and brown. "I don't think you need to worry much, though." She laced their fingers together. "I know Gabriel's type, and I can almost guarantee that he's just afraid to admit something big like 'love' or anything similar. He's not exactly young, you know? I'll bet he's been in some bad relationships." She knocked their foreheads together.

Sam nodded. He took a breath and smiled crookedly at her. "Yeah," He squeezed her hand. "You're probably right."

Persephone beamed. "Now let's _study_."

Sam Winchester groaned.

... ... ...

Gabriel swore under his breath and sank into the couch with a groan. His head pounded awfully, aggravated by walking home in the unseasonal heat. His ears rang. He wondered if he might be catching a cold. And wouldn't that be a joy?! He sighed.

The next thing he saw was Sam's worried face. He squeezed his eyes back shut. He felt the hard, cool wood of the floor against his back. "I fell off the couch, didn't I?" Or at least, he tried to. His mouth went a little slower than he wanted. Hard to control.

Sam bundled him into his arms. " Got home and you were on the floor." He carried Gabriel to the bedroom, and Gabe would have protested but he felt pieced apart—his head floating away from his neck, his fingers and toes barely there, his mouth filled with cotton and his eyes all heavy like argon. He hardly felt it when Sam put him down on the bed.

"Don' look like that, Sammy..." His voice came out in a slur. He couldn't really see Sam's expression but he thought it looked something like panic through the blur. But his eyes closed. So he just listened to the buzz of Samuel's voice through whatever plugged up his hearing and he couldn't make out the words other than _Something's wrong with my boyfriend_. And since when did Sammy call Gabe his "boyfriend"? Gabriel drifted off into a nice, soft dream, which he appreciated because he kinda felt like vomiting.

... ... ...

Gabriel struggled toward waking. Maybe... He focused his thoughts on clenching his fists, and felt his nails dig into the still-sore scars on his palms—and yes, the pain helped to drag him from unconsciousness. He let out a cracked moan. His throat and mouth felt too dry and he ached. He squinted, not opening his eyes fully due to the brightness of the room. "What the fuck happened?"

A quick rustle at his side, and Sam grabbed Gabe's wrist. And let out a deep sigh. "Shit." He stroked his thumb across the back of Gabriel's hand. "They say you had a stroke but... there's not really any damage which is unusual—I think..." Sam's voice came out small and shaky. "What did Odin do to you, Gabriel?"

Gabriel twisted his face up, making a noise of derision. "Son of a bitch probably sent too much power through me and fucked everything up. _Dick_." He blinked sluggishly and turned his head to catch Sam's eyes with a quick grin. "Hey. Kiddo. I'm fine, now. 'Kay?" He leveled an earnest expression on the youngest Winchester.

Sam twitched out half a smile, and nodded. "Yeah. Okay." His fingers trembled against Gabriel's wrist.

"Scared you, huh?" Gabriel reached his hands up and pressed his palms—interlaced with lines of smoothness where Odin's power had shot through and burned him—to rest on either side of Sam's face. He kissed Sam's nose. Sam just nodded, and leaned in as close as he could, breath ghosting warm and familiar across Gabriel's jaw. His face was damp under Gabe's fingers. "You been crying, Bright Eyes?" Gabriel forced a little smirk. "Over little ol' me?"

Sam snorted. "You had a _stroke_. I think a few tears are acceptable."

Gabriel laughed, hoarse, and winced. It hurt his throat. He coughed a little. "Got any water?"

Sam nodded. He grabbed a little paper cup of water from the rickety table beside the hospital bed and held it to Gabe's lips. Gabriel rolled his eyes but let himself be pampered. He deserved it, having to deal with that incessant beeping and the terrible, antiseptic smell. Not to mention uncomfortable clothes. He pulled Sam's free hand to his mouth and kissed each knuckle. "Sorry for worrying you."

Sam shook his head. He pushed a strand of hair out of Gabriel's face and whispered, "'M gonna go in the hall and call Dean, see if Cas can help."

Gabriel nodded, noting the redness around Sam's eyes and the way his Adam's apple bobbed nervously. He shooed his sasquatch away. Gotta let the boy calm himself down, and if his brother acted as a coping mechanism then so be it. He rubbed a hand over his face as the door clicked shut and Sam's voice filtered low underneath it.

About five minutes later, and fifteen seconds before Sam walked back into the room, Castiel appeared in the chair beside Gabriel's bed, startling a strangled yelp out of him.

"Hello, Gabriel." Castiel planted his hands on his knees, intent. "Dean tells me you had a stroke."

Gabriel smiled weakly, and nodded. "Pathetic, huh?"

Castiel tilted his head, narrowing his eyes and frowning. "I don't see how that's pathetic. It seems to be mostly unfortunate." He stood, dusting off the front of his jacket. "But hopefully, reparable." He stared at Gabriel, disconcerting and unwavering, for several seconds before extending two fingers to press them against Gabe's forehead. A not-unpleasant tingle fizzled across Gabriel's skin and he shivered. Castiel drew away.

Gabriel grinned crookedly at him. "All fixed?"

Castiel gave a curt nod. "Everything should be fine. Have a good afternoon, brother." He disappeared with a rustle of feathers.

Sam sagged against the wall with a loud huff of relief.

"Aww, c'mere Angelface." Gabriel held his arms wide open, feeling energized and clean. Better than he'd felt in months—since he'd broken his ankle in December, even. Sam laughed at the nickname, but made his way to Gabriel's side and wrapped his arms tight around him. Gabriel grunted. "Not so tight you beast." He thumped a fist on Sam's back, but neither of them really wanted to let go, so they stuck like that for a few seconds, before Sam finally withdrew from the embrace.

Sam smiled down at Gabe. "I'm never letting you out of my sight again, you hear me?" Before Gabriel could reply with something witty (or inappropriate) he whisked away out the door in search of the nurse to tell her Gabe was up and feeling better.

Gabriel rolled his eyes.

... ... ...

Persephone dug the heels of her palms against her eyes. She needed a nap. "Hades, I'm not having an affair with Sam Winchester. He's not even my _type_." She shifted so she had a better view of the crystal bowl of rosewater. Her husband's face shifted with the ripples.

Hades frowned. "Why, then, do you spend such an inordinate amount of time with him?"

Persephone rolled her eyes. "Because he's a friend! And the significant other of an older friend. Okay?" She propped her heavy boots on the coffee table. "I'm getting to know them both a little better so I can try and do Loki a solid. Er. Gabriel—or really, I think you know him as Hecate, though that was just a disguise." She tapped her lips thoughtfully.

Hades nodded in recognition of the name. "Yes." He eyes flickered. "The goddess who helped you to escape from me that first day, but made me believe it was in fact Zeus who aided you."

Persephone let out an inelegant snort. "That's the one." She twisted her mouth into a frown. "Anyway, I promise I'm not having an affair with anyone, and I'll be home in the winter. I just need some time to myself, you know? I'm not an object for you to own."

Hades frowned. "Damn the modern feminists of this age," he muttered.

Persephone laughed. "Goodnight, Hades."

"Goodnight, my Queen."

... ... ...

"If you're too gentle I might fall asleep." Gabriel's voice fell light and breathless against Sam's ear. Sam grunted, and kissed him careful. Gabriel sighed. Sam tasted like cucumbers, and he liked it.

Sam pawed at Gabriel's shirt, slipping his hand under the fabric to brush his fingertips on the raised lines of the wings across Gabe's chest and stomach. He flattened his palm on the golden heart in the center of Gabriel's ribcage, and nipped at Gabriel's lip, and pushed his free hand through Gabriel's hair.

The doorbell rang.

Gabriel breathed out a disappointed groan.

Sam scrambled off of him, patting himself down and checking that his hair lay flat before hurrying into the front of the house. Gabriel rolled to his feet and padded to the bathroom the make sure he didn't look completely debauched. He'd have to brush his hair, probably.

Voices carried down the hall from the kitchen. The sound of clinking glasses. Who on earth...?

Gabriel peeked into the kitchen, and tapped a little knock against the doorframe to let them know he was there, reaching into his pocket as he did so, to pull out his phone and press a button, briefly.

Sam turned to face him, and so did the strange man. Tall, pale, with red eyes and dark hair and gray clothes. Gabriel couldn't sense souls anymore, but something in the flint of those eyes...

"Hades?"

The man smiled. "Loki, I presume. Or would you prefer Hecate?"

Gabriel winced. "Yeah, about that..." He shrugged. Caught Sam's baffled look and tapped his hand against his thigh in their signal for _Get the Hell out of the house_. Sam's eyes widened briefly and he nodded.

"Excuse me, I think I left the groceries in my truck." Sam smiled politely, and made his way through the living room and into the yard. Gabriel wished the salt lines kept gods away. Oh well. He kept one eye on Sam through the living room window, and the other on Hades.

"What are you doing here?" Gabriel crossed his arms. He'd had a niggling suspicion that Pers' name hadn't just been the doing of new age hippies from the moment they met. He raised an eyebrow.

Hades stepped closer. "Saying hello to an old enemy."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Seriously? That was forever ago. And you still ended up with the girl, so I don't see the issue." He planted his hands on his hips.

"If Sam Winchester goes near Persephone I will personally disembowel him."

Gabriel paled. He grit his teeth. "Yeah?" He closed his eyes for exactly three seconds. "Well, Hades, you controlling, misogynist asshole... How about you let your wife have some semblance of control in her life instead of dictating every move she makes and keeping her trapped with charmed pomegranate seeds, and maybe then I'll let you get away with some mild jealousy." He crossed his arms snug across his chest, face drawn. He sighed as he saw Sam's truck disappear down the street. "But if you touch Sam Winchester I promise I will kill you myself." He smiled tightly. "Now get the fuck out of my house before I rip your lungs out."

Hades stiffened. Gabriel prayed for him to buy his bluff. He did.

The stench of acrid smoke and tangy copper lingering in his mouth after Hade's departure in a shock of smoke and sparks—so damn theatrical it embarrassed even the dramatic Trickster in him—made Gabriel want to vomit. Instead, he fumbled his phone out of his pocket and hit the speed dial, wrenching the refrigerator open to dig around for something fresh and mild.

Sam picked up on the second ring. "Gabe. You want me to come back, or go somewhere?"

Gabe scraped his palm over his mouth, feeling the scars against his chapped lips. He took a breath. "I wanna meet up at the gas station just off the highway, in twenty minutes. Okay?" He slammed the fridge door shut, and downed a gulp of some weird-colored juice Sam insisted was healthy.

"Alright. I'll see you then. Love you."

Gabriel smiled. "Yeah. Bye."

They hung up almost at the same time.

... ... ...

Persephone growled at her steering wheel. "You're fucking kidding me." She watched the red light burn on, cars streaming through her path, and listened to her voicemail again.

_Hey Pers it's Gabe. Just FYI your husband threatened to kill my man so I'd really appreciate an explanation. Don't call me. Meet us at the gas station—you know the one. Bye._

Finally, finally the traffic light went green and she all but slammed her stiletto-ed foot into the accelerator, lurching ahead of all the other vehicles beside her scarlet convertible. The engine snarled eagerly, rarely given the chance to flex. She goaded it on, until the barriers at the side of the road blurred into a seamless line. She kept her glamor going—disguising herself as a cop in a patrol car with sirens blazing—and people parted for her like the Sea of Reeds.

Eventually, she slowed, spotting a familiar pair of cars parked at the side of the road by the well-known Exxon commonly referred to as "The Station." She dropped her glamor, and pulled up behind Samuel's pickup truck with a loud, blaring honk. Gabriel and Sam leaned out the window—Gabriel dug his elbow into Sam's back to do so, using him as support as he leaned across the seat.

Persephone didn't bother to open her door. She stood (never having buckled herself in) and jumped out onto the gravel. She dusted off her leather pants and raised an eyebrow as she made her way to the boys.

"He threatened you?" Her lips pursed.

Gabriel fell back into his seat, and Sam sat back as well. "Yeah." Sam rubbed his face. "According to Gabe. And I trust him."

"Hey now!" Gabriel slapped him lightly. "I had my phone recording the moment I heard a strange voice in the kitchen." He slid his phone open, tapped at the keys, and passed it over to Persephone when tinny words spilled out. The entire conversation grated from the speakers and by the end Persephone's eyes flashed dark—Sam saw electricity roiling in the cloudy gray and if he had doubted what Gabriel told him about her being a goddess (less than ten minutes ago), well... There was no doubting it now.

She whirled on her heel with a snarl. "That son of a bitch!" She turned back to face Sam and placed a hand firm on her hip. She twisted her mouth. "Hades, the _ass_, thinks I'm having an affair with Sam." She rolled his eyes. "Swear to the sexist gods above, there are like three signs of domestic abuse in this relationship. Glad I stopped taking those stupid seeds." She dug in her purse for something, and ignored the wide-eyed face Gabriel pulled.

"You stopped eating the pomegranates?!" His voice came out blurted and a bit louder than he meant. He gave Sam an apologetic frown.

Persephone popped two tic-tacs into her mouth. She made an affirmative sound, chomping down before finally replying, "Yeah. Been feeding them to the dog. He doesn't know. But I'm at nearly full power." She licked her lips, and leaned on the truck's door, poking at Sam's arm with one slick nail. "That's why the weather's so unseasonably warm, hon." She winked. "I can even manipulate dreams again." She smirked.

Sam frowned at her.

She clarified. "Not the nightmares! That's not me. Well. I mean, not the early ones." She hummed to herself, a bar or two of "You are My Sunshine." Smiled at Gabriel, with a tilt of her head toward Sam.

Gabriel shot her a baffled look. She rolled her eyes.

"Sorry some of those dreams got a little out of hand. I can only plant the seeds, not sow the result." She waggled her eyebrows. Gabriel scoffed and crossed his arms. "Rest assured I won't plant any dreams after today. Promise."

Sam's eyebrows creased.

A crackling noise came from the asphalt.

Persephone pulled her eyebrows together, confused.

The ground split less than three feet from Persephone's heels, causing an SUV to screech to a halt, stopping just at the edge of the sudden rift. A taxi skidded up beside it, drawing a long scratch in the side with its mirror. Four other cars slammed into them. Black smoke and the thick smell of dirt and tar and copper flooded from the vent, and Hades flickered into being, forming from the tendrils of smoke.

Cerberus clambered out of the hole with a scritch-scratch of his red claws and thundering growls from his slavering mouth, eyes rolling wildly.

The human bystanders screamed.

Sam stared and Gabriel closed his eyes.

"You told me you would not interact with the younger Winchester!" Hades' eyes blazed. The ground trembled violently, and gravel clattered together and hit the rims of the cars. Anyone who could, ran.

Lightning snapped across the sky as clouds roiled to gather above until they loomed the color of bruises and burst blood vessels. Persephone seemed to grow in size, striding toward Hades in knife heels and slick red leather. "Excuse me?"

Hades' white skin practically glowed in the darkness, contrasting his gray clothing. He glared. "Him."

Persephone drew level with him, and Samuel noted they stood the same height. She held up her finger. "You do not dictate with whom I spend my time." She bared her teeth, feral. Her skin seemed to bleed a heavy wine color into the air around her, shading her skin even darker. Thunder rolled in the distance.

Hades drew his thin lips back.

Sam was reminded of a glass bottle filled with smoke, and a pillar of obsidian and onyx, facing off. Like a natural disaster waiting to happen.

Gabriel kept his eyes fixed out the back window.

"I am your husband." Hades' voice carried clearly across the asphalt.

Persephone fastened her fingers along his jaw, her nails scraping up his cheek. She whispered, and her voice crackled, and they heard it with ease. "I am not a _pet_."

Cerberus rumbled low from his chest. His paws skittered across the gravel, as he approached the three cars lined up by the road—white, maroon and blood red of the Nova, truck and '68 Mustang. His breath poured out in a rush of sulfur and death.

Gabriel reached out to dig his fingers in Sam's arm—he left red crescents in his wake. "Sam. Drive."

Sam tore his eyes away from the sight of Persephone and Hades trading words like poisoned stab wounds and twisted the key in the ignition 'til the pickup truck roared out to break the fizzle of the air with its mechanical din. The dog's heads all snapped toward it but Hades paid no attention, as Sam floored it and peeled out into the road. The tires protested. Cerberus barked loud enough to rattle the windshield, and Gabriel willed him to stay put as Sam sent the car barreling down the highway.

The dog made as if to move but Persephone lifted one finger and he froze in place, only his eyes rolling continuously in anger.

A line of lightning ripped from the clouds less than ten yards behind the truck and sent up a spray of dirt and gravel as it birthed a ring of fire encircling Persephone and Hades, and their three-headed dog.

Gabriel sagged against the bench seat, sending up a prayer of thanks to the goddess.

The road wound on.

... ... ...

"Why the _Hell_ didn't you call and tell me you were visitin', boys?" Bobby's voice carried over from the porch—he'd been out the door the second he heard tires in his driveway, and he recognized the sound of that pickup's engine anywhere. "The drive is four hours! Ya had time to call ahead." He glowered at them as a welcome.

Gabriel shoved the passenger-side open and all but fell out of the car, breathing shallow with a pale face and wide eyes. Sam rushed around to support him, mumbling apologies the whole way to the porch. "Sorry Bobby." He elbowed his way into the house, pushed Gabriel into the nearest chair so he could wind down from the jolting car ride (still hated being in a vehicle he didn't have complete control over, let alone going over seventy miles per hour), spun around to face Bobby. "We forgot. Runnin' from a god."

Bobby swore. "Who's it this time, ya idjits?"

"Hades." Sam grinned ruefully. "It's complicated." He shrugged, and rubbed Gabriel's shoulder with a firm hand 'til he was sure the other man had calmed significantly.

Bobby stared at him a long while before bursting out with a loud, "_Balls_!" and stomping into the kitchen.

Gabriel let out a weak chuckle. He patted the back of Sam's hand. "You _ever_ drive that fast with me in the car again I'll throttle you. Turn on the news."

Sam snorted, and obliged. The screen flickered to life with a crackle of _Breaking news! A massive freak electric storm has manifested just southwest of Northfield, Minnesota. Danger levels are high and a fire appears to have broken out. Police and firemen are trying to get near and are evacuating the area. If you are within 100 miles of the storm please leave immediately. A gas station has exploded, along with what appear to be several cars judging by the debris police have found over 500 feet from the eye of the storm._

The newscaster looked harried and tired. Behind her a fire engine blurred past with screaming sirens. A chopper could just be heard over the din. It was likely they'd try to utilize smokejumpers in areas far enough away from the lightning storm to not be doubtlessly fatal.

Gabriel whistled as she repeated her messages of warning.

Lightning could actually be seen in the background, probably from the outskirts of the storm.

"_Christ_." Sam's voice drifted into Gabe's ear just before an explosion knocked the newscaster off of her feet and even blew leaves off of a few trees, before the screen went completely white and then crackled through feedback to black with the sounds of shouts. Mere seconds later, the house lit up in every corner, the sky outside bright as day. After, a hugely deafening bellow of thunder. Sam and Gabriel stared out the window. Slowly, the light died away and left everything feeling heavy and dark—it didn't help that all the lights had gone out. The house had fallen silent, anything electric having short circuited.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and Dean burst into the living room shouting, "Bobby?!" with Cas close on his heels. Bobby slammed in from the kitchen. Everyone stared at each other. Bobby pointed at Gabriel.

"What the fuck was that?" He resettled his cap on his head.

Gabe blinked, dazed. "Uh... I." He scraped his scarred palm over his mouth, then met Castiel's eye. "Someone just died. Cassie, can you do some recon and see what's up?"

Castiel nodded, and before anyone could get out a word, he disappeared. Dean sent Gabriel a tight expression. Gabriel leveled one right back at him, eyes shaded with concern. Less than two minutes later Castiel stood in the center of the living room once more.

"It appears the god Hades has been destroyed." He tilted his head. "I felt the power trail of Persephone toward the east, and Hades' mark has been burnt into the road, with a small pile of charred bones and a skull. His crown is missing. Cerberus, injured, was retreating into the closing ground before I left." Castiel approached Gabriel and Sam. "What happened, Gabriel?"

Gabe snorted. "Well you just said what happened." He raised his hands defensively when Castiel rolled his eyes. "What?! Okay, okay! _Sorry_. Yeesh." He leaned into Sam's side. "Hades was being a jealous dick and Persephone smoked his ass. That's really all that's important." He shrugged. Sam rubbed the back of his neck—soft fingertips smoothing over the lines of the rose at the top of Gabriel's spine. Gabriel gravitated toward his touch.

Castiel made a gruff noise in his throat. Bobby huffed and said, "Well alright then. You boys stayin' the night?"

Gabriel fixed his eyes on the ceiling with a snort. "I'm not getting in another car for at least twenty-four hours."

Bobby nodded, signaling at Dean with a shake of his head to get some blankets from the linen closet. Dean grumbled his way out of the room. Cas rustled away again as well.

Bobby eyed them both. Finally he pursed his lips, uncrossed his arms, and headed out into the scrapyard to do God knew what.

"We could have still been there." Gabriel's voice came out hoarse.

Sam opened his mouth to say something but Gabe cut him off.

"Sam, I love you."

Sam let out an inelegant snort of laughter, grinning wide 'til his dimples looked more like laugh lines. "Yeah?"

Gabriel nodded. "Yup."

"'Bout damn time." Sam raised his eyebrows. "Love you too."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Aw, shut up Buttercup." He smiled.

(Wow what a terrible ending.)


	3. Timestamp 1: Appetizer

Gabriel let loose a tiny juddering sigh, twining his fingers tight between Sam's, pulling his shoulders forward as he leaned close, pressing their lips together with a breathy moan. He whispered Sam's name. Sam fastened his teeth—firm but not painful—on Gabriel's throat and raised his free hand to grip at the base of Gabriel's skull and tangle his hand in his hair. He could tug lightly, make Gabe's scalp prick, and Gabriel would gasp and roll his hips.

Sam laughed, quiet.

Sam rolled them over, rocked slow, dug his toes into the sheets. He clutched Gabriel's wrist in one hand and laid the other palm-flat against the golden heart on Gabe's chest. He bit Gabriel's jaw, leaving a small red mark like a flower. Gabriel's tongue flicked between his lips distractedly, and he craned his neck to kiss Sam. Sam kissed him back, almost insistent enough to bruise. (His fingers around Gabe's right wrist _did_ bruise, red bars hidden in the violet of Gabriel's sunset and thicket covered skin.)

They moved sweet, but rough.

Gabriel dragged his nails down Sam's sides and back and arms and chest and scarlet streaks trailed after them. Sam planted a rose garden of bite marks down Gabriel's neck and throat and collar. Gabriel clung to him, and Sam listened—attentive—to the happy, soft, hoarse sounds climbing from Gabriel's throat. He kept an unsteady pace and a steady stream of meaningless whispers. Gabriel scratched and clutched tight and Sam enjoyed the noise of his own name like a prayer in Gabe's erratic breaths and ground out answers with his body.

Gabriel liked the way Sam looked at him like he actually meant something.

Sam liked the way Gabriel's emotions went on display across his face.


	4. Timestamp 2: Congradulations

"Really, Gabe?" Sam pursed his lips, trying not to grin at the card in his hand. "Con-grad-ulations?" He shook his head, and finally laughed. The pun was too stupid not to.

Gabriel beamed at him. "You know you love it." He raised his eyebrows, and stole Sam's graduation cap. He waved it around curiously before sticking it back on Sam's head with a kiss on the cheek. "Proud of you."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Don't get all sappy on me _now_."

Gabriel smirked. "Fine." He spread his arms wide. "Then let's get in the car so we can go home and have wild celebratory sex on every surface in the house."

Sam snorted. "Yeah, okay."

He still slapped Gabriel's ass on the way to the passenger seat.

Gabriel smiled at him.

He had a lot of plans for that night.


	5. Timestamp3: Summer is sweet like vanilla

_((Based on the prompt "Imagine your favorite character eating popsicles with no clothes on because it's summer and their AC is broken" from imagine-your-fav-character Tumblr.))_

Late July and the heat sank through everything and the wood lilies edging the yard spread their heavy scent through the late afternoon air. Gabriel lounged in the grass, his head pillowed on one arm, with a homemade honey vanilla ice cream bar dripping tacky down its stick and between his fingers. He closed his eyes against the summer light, and bit it, with a little shudder at the chill against his teeth. Painful but exhilarating. He crossed one ankle over the other.

Little droplets of holy water sprinkled his toes. He cracked an eye open and watched Jude run shrieking through the sprinklers lining the walkway, his mother close behind with a broad grin on her face and a vibrant floral one-piece covering her body. Jude nearly tripped over Gabriel's legs, and Gabe let out a laugh.

"Whoa there, bucko!" He rolled out of the way, and narrowly avoided smashing his ice cream into oblivion. He saved it at the last second, though, and shoved it into his mouth to help Maria tackle Jude to the ground. The boy yelped.

Sam grinned at them from the doorstep, book in his lap and glass of lemonade in his hand. (With frozen strawberries and peaches rather than ice cubes.) He watched them tussle, and watched Gabe give up on his ice cream—he threw it into the driveway, licked his fingers clean, and dove into the fray. Happy yelps and giggles floated into the air, and Sam shook his head.

"Be careful!" He shut his book and leaned his weight on his knees. "I don't wanna have to take one of you to the hospital!"

Gabriel's middle finger raised in a cheerful response, and Maria shot Sam a salute before wrestling her son to the ground and attacking him with tickles. Gabe fell to his stomach beside them, and narrowly avoided a foot to the face. He rolled away, and popped to his feet to bounce his way over to Sam. He slithered into Sam's lap, knocking his book to the ground, and snaked his arms around Sam's neck, planting a sticky kiss to his cheek.

"You're such a stick in the mud." He nuzzled Sam's neck, grinning like a coyote.

Sam pinched his side, and muttered, "Someone's gotta keep you safe, since you sure as hell won't bother." He reached up and ruffled Gabe's hair, and kissed him in earnest. Gabriel sighed, pleased, and drooped against him. Sam pressed their cheeks together. "Jude's not as big as you guys, anyhow."

As if summoned by his name, Jude bowled into them with a shriek, and Maria shouted his name—stern but amused. Sam wrapped his arms tight around his lap full of ex-angel and neighbor child with a roar and let himself fall back. Jude giggled, and Gabriel let out a yelp, but laughed. Sam chuckled beneath them and his laughter rumbled through his chest.

Maria let out a hearty, "Make way for Queen Clearwater!" and climbed into the dog pile. Sam grunted, but beamed. She pecked Gabriel's cheek, then kissed Sam's forehead and Jude's nose before collapsing bonelessly atop them with a half-coherent, "The Queen is exhausted."

A honk sounded from the roadside. Sam hauled them all up, and Jude tumbled to the ground, tugging his mother after him, while Gabriel clung to Sam with all his strength. They turned their eyes to the red mustang purring at the edge of the road.

A wide grin split Gabe's face and he raised his arm with a violent wave. "Hey, Persy!" His eyes crinkled.

Persephone cut the engine and climbed out the passenger side window, and alighted on the walkway. She dusted off her cutoff shorts, adjusted her choker, placed a hand on her hip, and smirked. "And what do we have here?" She raised one perfectly trimmed black eyebrow. "You're having an orgy and you didn't invite me?" Her teeth flashed in a feral smile.

Sam snorted and Gabriel burst out laughing. Maria's face colored but she grinned and shook her head. Jude just looked on with mild bafflement clear in his eyes. Persephone snickered, and sauntered over to sit beside Maria in the shaggy grass. (Time to cut it again, clearly.)

Gabriel let himself wilt further into Sam's arms, yawning widely. Sam rolled his eyes, but rubbed a soft hand in circles on his back. Persephone leaned toward Maria and murmured something low and teasing in her ear. Maria blushed and let out an inelegant half-laugh. When Jude tilted his head quizzically she said, "Nothing, baby, nothing."

Sam scoffed. "Don't corrupt the neighbor, Pers."

Persephone winked at Sam.

They whiled away the hours in early evening sun, soft and warm, and chatted about the mundane and the fantastic, until Jude fell asleep in his mother's lap and Satiné wandered out of the house to snuffle at Sam's hand, and they all retired inside for dinner and drinks and rest.

The sun gleamed off the melted puddle of ice cream in the driveway.


	6. Timestamp 4: Lazy day

The wood floor creaked in the same spot partway through the room like always, and Sam slid into the bed beside Gabriel. He'd just gotten back from his first day as a kindergarten teacher's assistant, working from 7:50 to 11:50 with the am class, so the noon sun shot little slivers of light between the cracks of the curtains. Gabriel grumbled but let himself be wrapped up in Sam's arms. Sam smiled.

"_Octopus._" Gabe shifted to lay more comfortably, and sighed. Sam snorted. Gabriel's tendency to complain until his first meal of the day amused him to no end—he mumbled insults and scowled, but he always gravitated toward Sam's warmth like a cat to sunny windows and pressed into the heat he radiated. Sam loved it

He settled so that their legs twined together—Gabriel's cold toes brushing against Sam's shins or calves—and draped one arm over Gabe's side, sliding his hand up Gabriel's shirt to run his fingertips across the barely-there stipples of the world tree on his lower back. Gabriel shivered and curled closer to Sam. He was ticklish, but loved it when Sam rubbed his back. Such feather-light touches always got him going, though. He shrugged and muttered something unintelligible, and his leg twitched reflexively. Sam laughed and flattened his hand just under Gabe's shoulder blade. Gabriel untensed.

"Someone's worried I'll tickle him, hmmm?" Sam kissed Gabriel's forehead.

Gabe scoffed, rolled his eyes, and swatted at him. "You're an ass." He returned this kiss, but the closest spot he could reach with exerting much effort was Sam's neck, so his lips went to his throat.

"I'm your favorite ass, though." Sam smirked.

Gabriel leered. "You can bet on it."

Satiné whined from the rug beside the bed—her customary napping spot. Gabriel let out a grunt and extricated himself from Sam's clinging limbs before rolling out of bed, nearly tripping on the dog on the way, and knelt down to ruffle her ears and check her bad eye for any issues. Once certain everything was fine, he stood and stretched. Sam watched him from the bed.

"Gonna make some scones. And bacon." Gabriel ran a hand through his hair, but only caused it to stick up even more haphazardly. Today was definitely a shower day. "Anything you want for lunch?" He raised an eyebrow when Sam shook his head with a yawn. "In that case," He crossed his arms. "You can take Satiné for a run while I eat."

Sam groaned. "Fine." He stretched his arms over his head, and dragged himself out of the bed. He'd have to put his pants back on. He grinned, pinched Gabe's side, and padded into the living room before Gabriel could retaliate. Satiné trotted after him, ears twitching, good eye focused on his back.

Gabe rolled his eyes and shouted, "You're lucky I _like_ you!"

Sam's only reply was, "Love you too!" before the front door shut.

Gabriel smiled.


	7. Timestamp 5: It's a Thing

(For day 4 of sabriel week: PORN. I used the prompts with tattoos and desperation, in weird vague ways. Hah. And I hadn't a clue how to start so you can thank drowsyfantasy from Tumblr for that. Their prompt of connect-the-dots w/ tattoos acted as a springboard for this.)

Much of the time Sam woke in the morning covered in scratches.

It wasn't the sort of thing he paid much mind to. It was the sort of thing where, whether the sex was teasing or straightforward or even just foreplay, Gabriel would dig his fingers in and not let go.

If Sam kissed him, he pulled Sam's hair until it turned from simple presses of their lips to basically mouthing at each other like horny teenagers. If Sam licked his collarbone or neck or anywhere else? Gabe clutched his shoulders and slid his hands all over Sam's front and sides and wherever he could reach. Sam nipped at his jaw and hips and throat and thighs, and Gabriel clawed at him distractedly, drawing red lines down the skin of his back, shoulders to hips, across his sides, down his arms and chest. And that was just the small stuff. But his nails rarely drew blood, and more often left slightly sensitive scarlet streaks in their wake.

Sam retaliated with hickies and bruises until Gabe gave in enough to beg, and Sam loved that. Loved how the ex-Trickster Fallen angel, who had once possessed the power to warp time and space and kill a man with a snap, melted under Sam's touches and squirmed and mumbled his name and breathed, "More, more" so quiet he could barely hear.

Sam's favorite thing to do—other than draw forth such a sweetly pleading tone—was to kiss every inch of Gabriel's body, and bite his way along the edges of each tattoo. Sometimes through the entire patterns if he felt wicked and patient, sometimes just along the outer shapes. He liked to lace their fingers together and do nothing more than lap at, and press his teeth lightly into, the anti-possession symbol inked black against Gabriel's throat until Gabe's breath came in gasps and his toes curled.

Liked to stroke the golden heart on his chest and spread his fingers down the wings that feathered from it. Liked to nibble at the inside of Gabriel's wrist and up his arm, following the black work to his elbow and to his shoulder where it ended in thorns. Liked to run his hands over the rose garden on Gabe's other arm and down into the sunset that stopped off in trees and a thick band of darkness before his hand.

He liked to kiss the swallows behind his ears.

And he liked to pin Gabriel's hips to the bed and suck him off, and he liked to kiss all the way from the bottom of his foot to the inside of his thigh where a ram's skull curled its horns, and he liked to kiss his mouth 'til it went pink, and never look away. Liked to watch Gabe crumble.

Gabriel liked these things too, but lacked Sam's patience. (Sometimes _Sam_ lacked this patience as well, but not as often as Gabe.) So he tended to fall into ordering Sam and swearing, commanding that he do something rather than asking, because "Archangels don't ask for a blowjob, dammit." (Or anything else, it seemed.) Orders, however, acted as a guarantee for Sam to tease. Gabriel said, "Do that again," and Sam smirked and ignored him and trailed feather-light kisses down Gabe's sides and over his face and down his stomach until Gabriel made little frustrated sounds in his throat and finally let out a begrudging, "Please" or Sam took pity on him, and then Sam's movements took on a determination, a goal.

And he would unravel Gabriel in minutes, until he was practically a puddle beneath him.

All pretenses and joking and nicknames would drop, and the plainness and vulnerability that laced through Gabriel thrilled Sam, and he made every second a second worth remembering.

And Gabriel would lay there, about ready to pass out—he always fell asleep so quickly after sex—and Sam would roll his eyes and get rid of the used condoms and make sure everything was in order and clean, and then he would nudge Gabriel to lay on his side and pull him into his arms so their chests pressed together and their legs twined under the sheets, and they fell asleep like that. With Sam running his fingertips over the stained glass spread like wings over Gabe's shoulder blades, and blue stippled Yggdrasil over his lower back and the layered rose at the base of his neck, feeling the slight differentiation between blank and inked skin. And Gabriel sighed against him and drifted off immediately.

And Sam would wake in the morning aware of the scratches he'd accumulated the night (or morning, sometimes) before and smile and kiss each little crescent-shaped bite mark and bruise on Gabriel's body, until Gabe batted at him and demanded either breakfast or more sleep.


	8. Timestamp 6: American Wedding

_(A/N: Sabriel week day five is angst or fluff._  
_Fluff prompt: Something involving a pet. Angst prompt: Something involving sickness or death._  
_I sort of... included the dog. I mean it's not ABOUT the dog, but she's certainly in there. There's also some brief reminiscing about Mary Winchester's wedding ring but it's not exactly angsting. Just. "Oh this is like hers." Yeah. I stuck with fluff because angst makes me cry._  
_So I doubt I followed the prompt well but it's still good for sabriel week in general even if it doesn't fit quite right._  
_Lemme know if there are any horrifying typos.)_

... ... ...

It wasn't like in the movies at all.

No dramatic, sweeping proclamation down on one knee.

Gabriel had just gotten home from the bar, and neither felt like trying to sleep despite the late (rather, extremely early) hour, so they were sitting on the floor of the living room eating pancakes and watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, nestled next to each other, with the dog laying between Gabe and the front of the couch.

Buffy staked a vamp, Sam fiddled with the food on his plate, and Gabriel threw out, "We should get married," nonchalant as you please.

"Mhm." The words took a moment to process in Sam's mind. He put his plate on the floor. He muted the television. "Wait. What?" He turned to meet Gabe's eyes. Gabriel raised his eyebrows with a small half-smirk, but something in his eyes looked a little worried. Behind him, Satiné whined.

Gabriel gave the dog a pat on the rump to shush her, and kept his gaze fastened on Sam's face. "I just thought, you know." He shrugged. "Might as well. We've been doing this domestic thing for a while, you know? Hell, we've been together longer than four years and plenty of people get hitched after four _months_." He snorted. His hand tapped a staccato beat against his thigh, and his stare bounced from Sam's mouth to his nose to his cheek to his forehead but avoided his eyes.

Sam smiled.

"You're an idiot." He leaned toward Gabriel and coaxed a grin out of him with insistent kisses, tangling their fingers together. "But I guess you're my idiot, so I might as well stake a permanent claim." He kissed him again, and again and again, until Gabriel pulled away to breathe, and laughed softly. Sam reached up to rub his thumbs over the red and gold sparrows tattooed behind Gabriel's ears, and pressed their foreheads together. He whispered, "Persephone is gonna flip out."

Gabe let out a bark of laughter. (His eyes crinkled at the edges, so Sam kissed them.) He shook his head with a broad smile. "She's gonna try to organize the whole damn thing, isn't she?"

"Probably." Sam huffed. "But I bet you five bucks Dean'll try just as hard to control it."

Gabriel rolled his eyes and leaned back, using Satiné as a makeshift lower back support. She snuffled at him, but settled immediately, tucking her snout under her paws. Gabe yawned. "You're on, Winchester. Deano doesn't have a bridal bone in his body." He grasped Sam's hand. Sam squeezed, and un-muted the TV. The dog's tail beat the wood floor with a steady rhythm.

... ... ...

"You owe me five bucks." Sam grinned, toothy and dimpled, and held his hand out. Gabriel slapped a five dollar bill into his hand with a grumble and a pained expression, and watched the elder Winchester bicker with Persephone.

The two, having been some of the first to know (other than Maria and Jude of course), had almost immediately started fighting over the type of rings Sam and Gabriel ought to get. Gabe thought this was hilarious (re: really annoying) because, considering who was marrying who, neither Pers nor Dean had any sort of say in the decision. Gabriel sneered in their general direction, then ducked into the jeweler's shop, tugging Sam along behind him. (He wished Dean and Persephone would just make out already, but then Cas would mope so maybe not. And Maria seemed to have a crush on Persephone, as well, so... He wished instead for Persy to punch Dean in the face.)

The door jingled as it shut, and a kind looking—but surprisingly buff—woman, possibly in her forties, looked up from the ring she was polishing. She beamed at them, eying their joined hands, and said, "Welcome to Missy's Jewelry. What can I do for you boys?" Her eyes seemed to sparkle, mirthful. "And your dog."

Sam blushed upon realizing he still held Satiné's leash in hand. He hadn't had the chance to tie her to a bike rack or give her to Dean or anything before Gabriel dragged him into the store. "Shit! Sorry, I can go put her outside—"

"It's _fine_." Missy—assuming that's who the woman was—waved her hand and stood, to make her way out from behind the counter. "What're you two lookin' to buy? What's your budget?" She clasped her hands.

Sam stuttered, and Gabriel dug a loving elbow into his side, speaking up. "We're getting married, and we need some rings. Just bands though, not engagement." He squeezed Sam's hand. Sam pursed his lips, but smiled. Gabe continued, "I imagine anything over a totally of $1000 is pushing it, but anything under oughta be alright. Right, biscuit?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Sounds fine to me." He shrugged. "I don't like yellow gold though."

Missy tittered. "Well, if your limit for two rings is a thousand then you won't be able to afford gold! Not even white. I'm thinking some nice sterling silver, hm?" She led them to the cases and gestured at the rings lined up for general display. "Any type that catches your eye, you let me know."

Sam nodded, and pulled Satiné closer. Gabriel hovered so close to the glass his nose almost touched, looking with intense focus at each piece of jewelry. His eyes, Sam noted, stayed longer on the gaudier rings, and Sam groaned. "Please tell me you don't want something ridiculous, Gabe." He gave his best puppy-dog look.

Gabriel snorted. "It's like you don't even know me." He winked. "I just want something sparkly, Samalam. Not _ugly_." He grinned up at Sam, and pulled his hand up to kiss his knuckles—brief and soft. Sam sighed.

"Fine. But I won't wear anything with more than a small stone or two. Preferably none, really."

Gabe raised an eyebrow. "Nonsense! You need two stones. Like that one." He pointed to a fairly simple, wide gold band with two white diamonds, and smiled. "But in silver, of course. And maybe not those kinda diamonds." He nibbled his lip thoughtfully. "We could use like... brown." He shot Sam a playful smirk, and waggled his eyebrows. "Too bad diamonds don't come in plaid, eh?"

Sam rolled his eyes.

They spent a while in the shop, talking things over with Missy and figuring out what they'd like. At one point, Dean came in to "check on them" (eavesdrop) and Persephone lingered in the doorway curiously. The dog behaved herself very well and spent much of the time sitting by Sam's feet.

Finally, they decided on sterling silver bands. The ring Missy designed for Sam had a sort of line engraved lengthwise down the middle, between the two stones, creating a near-illusion of two bands. One stone was matte black onyx, and the other some sort of brown amethyst Missy called a smoky quartz. She showed them samples, from tiny paper envelopes, that sparkled in the soft lighting of the shop. Gabriel's design used the same stones, but in a short row of five and four alternating. His ring was more ornate, with the gems set in a channel, and some detailing beside it. Plainer, perhaps, than what he might have chosen on his own, but growing on him fast. They paid just around their price limit and left with instructions to come back soon to pick up the finished products.

Outside, Gabriel stretched his arms over his head before wrapping one around Sam's waist and saying, "I like her. She's nice."

Sam laughed, and urged the dog to follow Dean into the car. (Much to Dean's chagrin.)

... ... ...

Despite Persephone's insistence that the wedding should be a huge affair, despite Dean's that it should be at Bobby's house, despite Garth's enthusiastic suggestion of a _themed_ wedding... They kept it simple.

They enlisted Jude and Maria and spent long summer days sitting on the kitchen floor and making the few invitations they would need, and flipping through flower catalogues, and having Jude pick colors for streamers.

The dog helped, by draping herself across the little boy and nosing at his hands until he scratched her ears with a giggle.

Gabriel planned out a menu of appetizers with their suggestions, and decided a potluck would be best, with some things he made himself of course, and a nice simple two-tiered cake. Chocolate, of course, with whipped cream instead of icing or fondant, and sliced strawberries mixed into the batter. Give it a nice home-frosted look, a good taste, and a fan of strawberries on top. Simple. His little doodle went onto the fridge so he'd remember, and they spent the weeks preparing.

The day of the wedding was sunny.

No tuxedos. Sam wore a brown suit with a light blue shirt and a black tie, and Gabriel—disappointed he wouldn't have a white tux but still pleased with his clothes—wore a cream colored ensemble, with a simple white shirt, and sleek robin's egg blue tie with matching vest. His shoes even matched, in the same shade of blue, whereas Sam's were his typical black dress shoes. (But Gabe liked to be stylish. Even went so far as to roll up his sleeves to showcase his tattoos.)

Dean had been under the impression that a real wedding needed a bouquet of red roses. Persephone insisted he was an idiot, and said apple blossoms.

Sam and Gabriel ignored them in the preparations and wound together strands of chicory Jude and Maria picked for them from the roadside, until they had piles of flower crowns and a few nice boutonnières.

The "bridesmaids" – that is, Jody and Maria—wore sundresses and their little rings of chicory. Persephone preferred a sheer blouse and slacks and refused a crown, so Garth—dressed similarly—claimed hers and wore it with a grin. Jude bounced between people in his short pants and what Dean would definitely call "sissy shoes." (Brown Mary Janes.) He looked a little like Christopher Robin, but more modern. Bobby had even combed his hair and put on a decent outfit, probably because Jody made him. Dean wore the only nice outfit he had, which was his fed suit minus the jacket because "It's too damn warm for jackets." Cas hovered beside him in his usual attire, unsure what to do with himself. He adjusted the small blue flower in his lapel, and Dean rolled his eyes. Balthazar flirted with Persephone in a clean maroon suit.

Sam and Gabriel stood off to the side, checking over everything in their backyard. Sam fretted. Gabe took his hands and kissed his fingers and shushed him. "You're freaking out the dog."

Satiné's ears twitched and she butted Sam's leg with her face before looking up at him with one wide brown eye. She whined. Sam scrubbed a hand over his mouth and knelt down to stroke her ears. "Hey girl," He pressed his face into her fur and her tail wagged. "You're a good girl, huh?" She snuffled at his hair. He smiled. Her nose twitched.

"Are you jackasses gonna stand around all day or are ya gonna let me marry you?!"

Sam snorted and straightened up, wiping his palms on his slacks. He grinned at Bobby. "Getting impatient, old man?" Bobby flipped him off, but his expression betrayed some of that crotchety happiness he often tried to hide—gruff but proud.

Gabriel pointed at Bobby, accusatory. "No middle fingers in front of the kid, Singer!" His eyebrows shot up. He smirked. But he dragged Sam over, and handed their little velvet box to Jude with a whispered, "Guard this with your life, bucko." Jude gave him a solemn nod, eyes wide. Behind him, Maria chuckled. He clutched the ring box tight.

The ceremony went without a hitch, nice and easy and full of family. Surprisingly enough, Garth's eyes stayed dry—even though he cried when people got married on TV.

Dean, on the other hand. He'd never admit to it, but he cried. He never, ever thought he'd get to see his little brother at the altar (not that there _was_ an altar, but hey. Figure of speech.) Not since Jess. Not through all the shit they'd put up with. But there he stood, in the grassy backyard of a sickeningly adorable house, watching his Sammy slide a ring onto someone's finger. He scrubbed at his face and his cheeks hurt from grinning. Cas set a steady hand at his back, and he reached over to mess up his angel's hair.

Everything said and done, Bobby grabbed Sam and Gabe by their collars and pulled them into a tight hug, then shoved them away. "Cut the damn cake." He crossed his arms. "I'm hungry."

Sam laughed, and followed Gabriel toward the food until Maria and Jude tackled him. Maria kissed him on the cheek and Jude reached his hands up as far as he could—Sam bent down so he could reach—and slapped a crown of chicory onto Sam's head. Sam wrapped his arms around the boy and lifted him up with a grunt, and pulled Maria into his side, briefly. Then he spotted his big brother acting extra masculine toward Pers, and rolled his eyes, and shouted, "Dean!" He let Jude slither back down to the ground, and basically collided with his older brother.

That special kind of Dean hug always got Sam feeling at home, safe and warm—the way Dean just fastened himself to Sam and held him in place until he deemed the Moment to be getting out of hand, where his breath got pushed out of him in a rush. He sighed and grinned when Dean pulled away. Didn't say a thing about his red-rimmed eyes but filed the information away for later pestering.

Dean slapped Sam's shoulder. "Proud of you, Sammy." He squeezed his arm. "Real proud."

Sam grinned. He heard a quiet whuff, and looked down to see Satiné nuzzling around their feet. Dean eyed her, still wary of dogs, but let her sniff at his shoes. He even reached down to pat her head after a few minutes. Sam leaned down and scratched under her collar.

At Gabriel's whistle, both Sam and the dog turned. Dean chuckled, and muttered, "You are _whipped_." Sam kicked his shin, and followed Satiné toward Gabriel to pluck a slice of cake from his hand and set it on the table, and wrapped his arms around him from behind.

"Hi." He twined their fingers together. Their rings clinked together, and Gabe tilted his head back to beam blindingly and planted a kiss on Sam's jaw. Satiné slunk between their legs and lay down on the grass with a huff. They laughed at her.

By dusk the cake was no more, and flowers littered the yard. They decided they could clean it up another day. Kissing was more fun anyhow.

... ... ...

"You know why I chose this ring?" Sam wiggled his finger so the silver caught the dim light filtering through the curtains. Gabriel shifted in his arms so he could look at him, and raised an eyebrow. Sam kissed his nose and said, "Dean wore our mom's wedding ring for a long time—he lost it during all that Apocalypse crap, but anyway... It was a real simple silver double band. Sorta like this but without the diamonds." He chuckled. "Dean used it to open beer bottles."

Gabriel snorted. "Of course he did." He rolled over so he could face Sam more easily, and wrapped his hands around Sam's neck, and pressed their lips together. "Sorry about your crazy life, kiddo." He ran his fingers up through Sam's hair. Sam shook his head.

"Hey, we turned out okay. Some shit I'd rather never happened, but... That's life, I guess." He shrugged, and slipped his arms around Gabe's waist, and laced his fingers together at Gabriel's lower back. He kept his eyes fixed on Gabriel's—all greenish-gold and bold—and smiled. Gabe rolled his eyes and pushed his face into the space between Sam's neck and shoulder. His voice came out muffled—

"You Winchesters are too good."

They heard the click of claws on the wood floor and looked up.

The dog jumped onto the bed and squirmed between them with a quiet woof. Gabriel stroked her fur and Sam scratched her chin and she settled onto the sheets with twitching ears and big eyes. She dug her wet nose into Gabe's cheek, and swiped her tongue over his face. He pulled an offended expression and shoved her away.

Sam laughed.

I used the Gemvara website's ring customizer thing to figure out how I wanted their rings to look like and this's what I came up with. Silver, black onyx and smoky quartz. Gabe's is clearly the left one.


	9. Timestamp 7: Nightmares

Prompt fill for day 6 of sabriel week: a color and a concept:  
Orange, nightmares.

Sam woke to the sound of Gabriel whimpering in the darkness beside him. He rolled over to face him, slid his arms around him, pressed his lips to his forehead. Felt him shaking in his sleep.

"Shhh, baby." He trailed little kisses down Gabriel's hairline, stopping at the edge of his jaw. "Wake up. I'm right here, Gabe." Gabriel's shudders calmed, and Sam felt the flutter of eyelashes against his face as Gabe opened his eyes. He rubbed his hand in soothing circles over Gabriel's back. Slow and tentative, Gabriel's fingers drifted up from the sheets to tangle in Sam's hair. Sam let Gabe pull him into a long, simple kiss. He pulled away and cupped Gabe's face in his hands.

Moonlight filtered yellow through the curtains, and the ruddy pink fairy lights (still up over six months past Christmas, as a way to keep Gabriel from hurting himself on the way to the bathroom at night) cast their glow in from the hallway to combine and wash the bedroom with a soft copper color. It highlighted the slope of Gabe's shoulder, and the drape of the sheets over his hips. Sam swept his thumb over Gabriel's cheekbone, and smiled. Gabriel's return smile wobbled.

"You okay?" Sam's hands drifted down to curl back around Gabriel's waist, and he knocked their foreheads very gently together. Gabe made a noncommittal noise in his throat but nodded. Sam kissed him again. "What did you dream about?"

Gabriel cleared his throat, followed by a weak, self-deprecating laugh. "Oh you know, the usual—pillars of flames, hundred car pileups, collapsing schools full of children." He shrugged, and reached up, sweeping Sam's hair out of his face before he continued. "We were stranded in the middle of the ocean and you made me take the only lifejacket and it was the most hideous fluorescent orange I've ever seen, and then you swam away and left me alone in the dark and when the sun came up, it turned out there was a fuckin' yacht just floating there with the ladder down waiting for someone to go on. And you'd gone the wrong direction, away from the boat and away from shore, and I sat on the boat for a long time before driving it out, and I found you floating face down in the water three miles away with no fucking head and a the water dyed red around you. Then Lu... him. My brother showed up standing on the water, bleeding from, you know, just under his jaw, spitting actual fire and he just... Laughed, until you woke me up." He scrubbed his hands over his face, then pressed it against Sam's collar. Sam squeezed him tight. "Thanks for that, kiddo." The dim light glinted soft and peachy off his eyes.

"Gabe," Sam rolled onto his back, and pulled Gabriel after him, settling him on top of him in a strong embrace. "You're good." He grabbed one of Gabriel's hands in his, pressed their palms together so he could feel the smooth heat of Gabe's scars, and laced their fingers together before planting a kiss on the back of his hand. "Just wish you'd take your meds."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. His heart rate felt steady again. "You know how I feel about those goddamn pills. I only took them the first time because you wouldn't stop bitching about them." He squirmed to be more comfortable, and raised an eyebrow. "Besides, the nightmares are rare now. This is the first time in four months." He smirked. "And they're such a great excuse for hardcore snuggling, my little tangerine."

Sam nipped at Gabriel's lower lip. "Jerk."

Gabriel kissed him.


	10. Timestamp 8: Children's TV

Prompt "Pop culture" for sabriel week. This is uh... set in the future if you want to be technical, but really it has been since the first timestamp.

"Are you watching a children's show?" Sam slid his arm around Gabe's waist, settling against the couch cushions. He blew a stray strand of hair from his face. Gabriel grinned at him.

"Kiddo," Gabe patted his cheek. "This show is a work of art."

Sam snorted. "_Gravity Falls_ sounds like a bad tourist spot." But he curled his arm tighter and slumped down to lean his head on Gabe's shoulder, and watched with him—Gabriel had bought the entire first season nearly a year ago out of curiosity and never gotten around to watching it until then. Sam found he enjoyed the absurd take on supernatural beings, and Gabriel thought the animation was fascinating.

Around episode 12 Sam demanded they stop to eat at least—possibly stop for the day. "I'm tired. It's lunch time. Let's eat and go on a walk." He stood, and dragged Gabriel off of the couch. Gabe stuck his tongue out but obliged. They ate leftover spaghetti, and strolled around in the afternoon sunlight, even going so far as to hold hands. Dean would laugh.

Once back inside, Gabriel tugged on Sam's hand and whined, "C'mon Sammy, it's only a few more hours." He looked up at Sam with his best attempt at a pathetic, wounded expression. Maybe it wasn't as good as Sam's puppy dog face, but it got Sam in one go—he groaned, rolled his eyes, and allowed himself to be pulled onto the couch as a human pillow. The dog settled herself on his feet. He prayed he wouldn't need to use the bathroom anytime soon because there was no getting out of his trap on the sofa.

At the end, Gabriel sat up straight and said, "WHAT."

Sam laughed at him, and kissed his cheek. "Season finales are always dramatic, Gabe." Gabriel pouted. Sam kissed his protruding lip, and he sighed and kissed back.

"I guess."

Sam grinned. "The Disney Channel is gonna be a regular staple on our TV, now, isn't it?"

Gabriel winked.


	11. Timestamp 9: Serenity: The End

For the final day of sabriel week.  
A word that starts with "S."  
Guess which word I chose.  
This is the final update in this 'verse, I think.

**_se·ren·i·ty_**

_noun, plural: se_ _･__ren_ _･__i_ _･__ties _

_the state or quality of being serene, calm, or tranquil; sereneness_

... ... ...

"You're beautiful, you know that?"

The words came soft, low and humming, on the edge of a breath. The brush of Gabriel's fingers accompanied them, hovering between touching and not-touching Sam's shoulder. Sam opened his eyes in the half-light of the early morning. He frowned questioningly at Gabriel.

"This." Gabe smiled. "Just like this." His arms wrapped around Sam's neck to pull him closer. "Half-asleep, hazy, and warm." He brushed his mouth against Sam's. "Most beautiful person I've ever seen."

Sam's lips curved under his kisses. "You're getting sentimental in your old age." He stroked his hand up Gabriel's back, to feel his smooth skin and trail fingers over tattoos. He kissed back, slowly. With a lazy intent, languid and measured and heady. Initiated skin-to-skin contact any place he could, but in no hurry. Just liked to feel their bodies tangled in the sheets.

Gabriel didn't answer, distracted now. He reached up and fisted his hands in Sam's hair with a quiet breath. Sam gripped his waist, and rolled them over so he lay on top of Gabe, but kept most of his weight set against his own arms—Gabriel may once have been an all-powerful God-Archangel-Trickster but now, he was as breakable as any other human. And neither minded. Sam framed Gabriel's face with his forearms in the gold sheets, and held himself just shy of crushing Gabe, and continued to kiss, not bothered by the tugging at his hair. Gabriel sighed against his mouth.

Sam nipped at Gabriel's lower lip. "But... you wanna know something?" His voice escaped hushed and slightly sleep-hoarse. His eyes fastened on Gabriel's in the dark. He mouthed along Gabe's jawline.

Gabriel raised one eyebrow. "What?"

"You're pretty beautiful, too."

He grinned.


End file.
